Chasing Shadows
by aboringday
Summary: It's been weeks since DedSec had taken down Blume's corrupt CTO, Dušan Nemec. Just as Marcus and the gang began to celebrate their victory, they noticed a staggering amount of mysterious disappearances taking place throughout California, far too many for DedSec to ignore. The gang decided to do some investigating. But will this be their hardest operation yet? (MarcusxSitara)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey readers! This is a multi-chapter romance fic between Marcus and Sitara. Rated M for intense violence, blood and gore, sexual content and strong language.** **SPOILER ALERT! This series takes place after the events within the game, you've been warned!**

 **Please enjoy! Sitara and Marcus are adorable together, we need more writers showing this pair some love!**

* * *

 **Sitara**

We fucking did it. We, DedSec, took down the CTO of Blume corporation! Dušan Nemec— one of the youngest, most successful, egotistical prick billionaires in all of San Francisco, was rotting in prison. It wasn't easy though. He was a powerful guy with seemingly endless resources. He even had his own little personal army of FBI agents. But worst of all, he had ctOS 2.0 wrapped around his fingers.

Despite all that crap, we took him down, exposed Blume, HAUM and many other tech giants for the corrupt frauds they were. And it felt good. Damn good. If it wasn't for us, people would still be living like sheep. It was about time everyone woke the hell up.

And if it wasn't for Marcus… None of it would had been possible.

The Hackerspace was quiet tonight. It reeked of beer and pizza. We've been doing a lot of celebrating since taking down Blume. But tonight was calm and peaceful. I think we've finally got the partying out of our system.

Wrench stood before his infamous wrench bench, fully immersed in tinkering with a new security robot from Haum electronics. The poor guy has been down in the dumps ever since the last robot he reprogrammed and bonded with, Wrench Jr, took one for the team at the Tidis repair facility. It took some time, but he eventually snapped out of it and convinced Marcus to hijack him a new one. Soon, there'll be a new little robot for him to love and cherish. He deserved some happiness, after everything he had been through.

Josh was off by the corner of the space at his computer, rooted within his seat and dead focused on monitor's screen, probably speed reading, considering I couldn't hear him typing away instead.

I hung out at my usual spot, leaning against my heavily tagged, trusty digital printer just across from the staircase. I couldn't take my eyes off the DedSec app. Our followers were growing substantially. DedSec was becoming bigger than I ever imagined. Everything was falling into place. My brand— the art, the logos, the videos, it was finally making a difference. People were opening their eyes.

As happy as I was about our massive amount of followers, and all the soulless tech giants we took down, I couldn't get Marcus off my mind. I was worried about him. He went out to grab us some pizza and a couple of beers hours ago, and still hasn't returned. What was taking him so long? The pizza shop was only a few blocks away. Could he be in trouble? We've come a long way and had a lot of enemies. Maybe something happened, he could had been kidnapped or worse…

I sighed. _Calm down, Sitara._ It was hard not to be paranoid after losing Horatio. We were all young, and did amazing things, whether it was hacking, stunts or free-running. Sometimes, it was easy to forget we were only human. That is, until we lost Horatio. It changed everything.

We couldn't afford to lose Marcus, not after everything he's done to get us here. He was the reason we were all still fighting the good fight, we'd be lost without him. But with all the risks he took on the daily, bringing the fight straight to ctOS and hacking their closed-circuit terminals, it scared me. They were usually so well defended, either by gang members or police. I knew someone had to do the fieldwork, but his luck was bound to run out one day. He could only hack and charm his way out of so many situations.

Whenever Marcus left the hackerspace for a mission, I waited anxiously for the moment he'd return. No matter what I did to distract myself from the restlessness and the worry, nothing would work. But all those bad vibes would dissipate the moment he stepped through the sliding door and swaggered down the stairs, all the while flashing me that same pearly white, charming smile as he descended. I'll never forget that nice smile of his.

"I'm going to name him Wrench Jr 2.0, in loving memory of his predecessor's sacrifice," Wrench's synthetic voice filled the room. He stroked a hand over the security bot's head gently. "I'm gonna take good care of you buddy, no one's going to hurt you. You're going to be the happiest robot there ever was—"

"He should have been back by now," I stated, cutting off Wrench's rant.

He stared at me, his leather mask displaying its two large, blinking question marks. "He, as in, our wonderful friend Marcus?"

"Think I should call him?"

"Nah. Relax worrywart, I'm sure M is fine."

"It doesn't take hours to get pizza, Wrench."

"True. He probably got distracted or something."

"And if he didn't?" Josh asked from across the space, monotone as usual, eyes still glued to his monitor.

"Then he's currently performing a tactful escape from a horde of pissed off street thugs armed with military grade weapons and explosives. Or he's in the middle of a bad ass high speed chase with the cops." His mask abruptly brightens up with two blinking circles. "Or maybe, the thugs and cops have formed an alliance, and he's being shot at and chased by both! All three scenarios would be equally bad ass."

"Yet improbable," Josh adds. "Muraccinis is fifteen-minute walk from here, and knowing Marcus, he'd most likely drive. It isn't in gang territory either. They wouldn't be so bold. Also, the authorities wouldn't pursue him unless he provoked them somehow. He's not running an op right now, at least I don't think he is."

"Alright, you got me there," Wrench said. "But you gotta admit Josh, my scenarios do sound bad ass. You see, there's only three things as thrilling as blowing shit up. The first, being the most obvious of the three, is motor boating a stripper dressed as a furry—"

"Too much information Wrench." I said.

"Shame on you Sitara, there can never be too much information. Data makes the world go round, am I right?"

"That I can agree with," Josh replied.

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Wrench continued. "The second and third would be getting shot at, and high speed chases. If Marcus is lucky enough to be engaged in either or right now, I'm one hundred percent positive he has it all under control."

"It'd practically be like a normal day for him, Sitara," Josh said. "I noticed there's been a significant rise in missing person cases. A thirty percent increase since last year, it can't be a coincidence. Perhaps he was kidnapped. Not very probable though, I wouldn't worry about it."

I frowned. "You both aren't helping."

"Well, can't say we didn't try," Wrench muttered, returning his attention to robot laid across his bench, screwdriver in hand.

The sliding door of the hackerspace abruptly opened, and Marcus appeared, a pizza box secured in his grasp and a brown paper bag hanging by his forearm. A wave of relief washed my worries and anxiety away as he descended the stairs. He smiled warmly at me, like he always did whenever he returned from running errands or ops, and time and time again, my heart responded with flips and cartwheels. I just couldn't get over that smile. It never got old.

"What's good, party people?" He exclaimed happily, halting before the brown fold up table in the center of the space. There were files, empty donut boxes, coffee cups and various soda bottles resting on top of it. God, we were so junky. He carefully brushed it all aside and placed the pizza and brown bag down gently. "Y'all miss me?"

"Hell yeah we missed you dude," Wrench pulled away from his bench and hurried to the pizza. "And you got the goods? Well done, my friend. Well done."

"Sitara missed you the most," Josh stated.

"No shit?" He glanced at me, his thick brows furrowed.

"What in the world took you so long?" I asked.

"I was gathering intel on Pharmingtons—"

"The pharmaceutical company?" Josh asked.

"Weren't they the dumb fucks unrightfully canning their employees under the suspicion that they were working with us?" Wrench asked.

I nodded. "Right, and then we hacked into their financial department and transferred moolah to all the employees they kicked to the curb."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Wrench said. "They deserved it, they were sacking workers for even Nudle searching DedSec. Fuckers."

"They wouldn't be the first corporate giant exploiting people's private data through ctOS," Marcus said. "Yo, one of our followers hit me up about some rumors he's been hearing, figured I might have been down to do some digging. I know it sounds crazy, but I think they might be connected with the sudden rise in missing person cases."

"What are we, fucking pigs?" Wrench asked. "Leave that shit to the police, M. We have other things to worry about, like ctOS for example."

"If there's any truth to these rumors I've been hearing, then we gotta look into this. Uncovering corporate greed and corruption to the people is what we stand for, right? If Pharmingtons is hiding dirty laundry, it's our job to—"

"Expose the dirty sheets," Wrench finished his sentence. "I stand by you on that one, and yes, I do love conspiracy theories, but I dunno dude. A bunch of pharmacists kidnapping people seems a little far-fetched. Unless…" He let out an abrupt gasp, his mask blinking with two large exclamation points. "They're operating on people and selling their organs on the deep web to the highest bidder?"

"Someone's been watching way too many bad sci-fi movies," I grumbled.

"There's hundreds of people in Silicon Valley, San Francisco, and Oakland that have suddenly gone missing in a matter of months," Josh stated. "I don't think Pharmingtons would have the resources to pull something off that big, without anyone knowing. There must be more to it. You might not be on the right track Marcus."

"Look, Pharmingtons is the only lead I got," Marcus said. "I know I was supposed to just be going out for pizza, but I saw a window of opportunity to do some snooping and I went for it. I didn't find anything, but I'm gonna keep digging until I know for sure that they have nothing to do with it."

"Told ya' he got distracted Sitara," Wrench said, lifting his mask slightly to take a bite of pizza. "I'm always right."

"Too distracted to send a text, or give us a call that you'd be running late?" I asked.

"My bad, mom. It won't happen again, all right?"

I rolled my eyes and turned away, my gaze lowering to my phone. Why did I even waste the energy worrying about everyone all the time? Rarely was it worth the headache.

Marcus appeared in front of me, his strong, calloused hand brushed over my bare shoulder for my attention. His touch felt surprisingly good against my skin— warm and tender. Behind the lenses of his thick glasses were deep brown eyes laced with concern. "Don't be mad, girl," he spoke soft and quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "I got back here as soon as I could."

"Marcus, I was worried sick about you," I muttered, our gazes locking. "You can't just drop off the radar like that, we've made a lot of people angry taking down Blume."

"I know, but I'm all good. I'm alive and well, ain't no bullet holes in me. Plus, I brought the pizza and the drinks here all in one piece. Quest complete right?"

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"When you mock me for caring about you. Do I seriously act like your mom?"

"Nah, I was just joking."

"Well it was funny at first, but now it's just douchey. I know I nag you sometimes, but you going out on your own, running ops, gathering intel, and getting distracted for hours on end, doing God knows what… I don't want to take chances anymore, not after what happened to Horatio."

He grimaced and sighed heavily, eyes falling shut for a brief moment. It was as if hearing Horatio's name aloud worked like a switch. It immediately turned his usual happy-go-lucky nature around into complete doom and gloom. My stomach tightened. Damn it, I shouldn't had brought Horatio into this. Marcus was still torn up about it. Truthfully we all were, but clearly he was the most affected. And rightfully so, Horatio died in his arms. We weren't there to witness all the blood, the pain and the suffering. Horatio deserved better.

Marcus was strong for holding it together as long as he has.

I clung to him, and held him there tightly, hoping that that'll be enough to comfort him. To my surprise, he returned the hug. It wasn't until I felt his defined arms secure around my waist, that I realized I needed comfort just as much as he did. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to relax. The scent of fresh, woody extracts rose from the collar of his black sweater. His cologne smelled great, and combined with the subtle hints of espresso due to his hopeless addiction to caffeine, it was hard not to melt in his embrace.

He slowly pulled away, his fingers stroked through the ends of my ponytail playfully. "You know what, I think you're right."

I smiled. "Aren't I always right?"

"Yeah, let's not get ahead of ourselves now." He teased.

I punched his shoulder gently. "Jerk. But wait, what was I right about this time?"

"It's too big of a risk for me to go on ops by myself, right? So, why don't you come with me?"

"Me? Come with you?" I blinked. The thought of getting shot at and constantly trying to dodge the police didn't sound very appealing. Like at all. But on the flip side, he wouldn't have to face it all alone anymore. I'd be spending less time worrying and more time making a difference.

"Yep, you and me running an op together. Sounds fun right? I need to get inside Pharmingtons' HQ and access their servers."

"You're really serious about this whole missing persons thing, huh?"

"Dead serious."

I glimpsed at Wrench, who's still devouring pizza. He's inhaled about four slices so far, and was working on the fifth. He was pretty freaking small despite how much he ate. Where did it all go?

"Wouldn't Wrench be more suited for fieldwork?" I asked.

"Wrench can get shit done, no doubt," Marcus replied. "Although, stealth isn't really his thing, if you get what I mean. The leather straps and spikes look is dope and all, but it doesn't work very well for blending in."

"It's probably just the mask."

"Probably. If I need explosions, massive hysteria and commotion, he's my guy. As of right now, I'm tryna' lay low. So, what do you say?" He flashed his signature, charming smile. "You down to ride?"

"Well, how can I resist that smile? C'mon, let's roll stud."

He grinned and stepped aside, preforming a classy bow. "After you, my lady."

"Why thank you, kind sir."

We voiced our goodbyes to the others, promised to keep in touch and went on our merry way.

* * *

"And here we are," Marcus announced as we slipped through the hardwood front door of the Pharmingtons CEO's office.

The office was neat and tidy, with a fancy polished, cherry wood desk and a tall, brown leather executive chair positioned in the center of the space. On the desk was the usual office supplies— sticky notes, business cards, pens, stacks of files and documents, staplers, and of course, a computer. No office would be complete without one.

In the corner of the office was a brown paneled door. It was already opened slightly, with an expensive, beige trench coat visible through the crack. The CEO must be using the storage closet as a wardrobe.

It was easy enough getting here. We arrived at the headquarters just after midnight. Most of the staff had already clocked out for the day. There were only a handful of Umeni security guards patrolling about, and a few janitors working the nightshift. Marcus was able to steal the access key to the back entrance of the building from one of the guards. Once inside, we managed to tap into the building's servers, and bypass the lock on the elevator to the CEO's office. All that was left to do now was hack into the computer and see if we could find anything to confirm Marcus' suspicions about their connection to the various, sudden disappearances around the city.

Honestly, it was a long shot. If Pharmingtons did have a connection with the mysterious disappearances, this could be huge for DedSec. But if not, we were wasting our time.

Marcus hurried across the beige carpeted floor, maneuvering around the large desk, and quickly got to work on accessing the CEO's private data. It wouldn't be long before he hacked in and began transferring intel for Josh to comb through.

I wandered over to the desk, and inspected the pile of business cards. 'Executive Officer Angelica T. Stewart' was etched across it. Below the name was the HQ's address, and the CEO's phone and fax number. I bet she was pissed when we stole funds from her financial department and gave it to the former employees she so carelessly fired. I mean, come on, canning people over DedSec Nudle searches? This was the world we lived in— everything was monitored. Privacy was a thing of the past.

"I'm in," Marcus declared, turning away from the CEO's computer and gazing at his phone. "You getting all this Josh?"

"Yeah, this is a lot of data to sort through," Josh's voice seeped through my earbuds from the DedSec channel. "What exactly am I looking for again?"

"You're looking for anything suspicious Josh," I said. "Check her emails, phone log, search history— If Marcus' hunch is true, this could potentially be huge for DedSec."

"Fine. I'll need some time. You guys should get out of there. I'll contact you if I find anything shady."

 ** _Thump. Thump._**

The sound of heavy footed steps pounding against the marble hallway floor from outside the office rooted me in place. The footsteps had become more and more audible with every second that passed. Someone was heading straight for the office. Our cover was about to be blown if we didn't think fast.

My eyes darted to Marcus. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling me to keep silent. Securing his DedSec mask over his face, he reached for his back pocket and grasped his stun gun. I tapped his shoulder and pointed at the closet. He peered at it in quiet contemplation for a brief moment, and then nodded in approval. We carefully navigated toward the closet and huddled inside, closing the door behind us as quietly as possible.

It was dark in here, and it reeked of strawberry air freshener. Marcus and I's knees were practically touching due to the cramped space. I glanced up at him, only to find his soft brown eyes studying me intently. Heat rose to my cheeks. I immediately dropped my gaze to my boots.

Despite how often we were around one another; it wasn't until now that I realized how small I was compared to him. He was strong, powerfully built and tall— a far cry from most of the hacker and starving artist cliques I was well accustomed to. The top of my head just barely reached his shoulders.

It was going to take some getting used to. Marcus and I have never been this intimate before, not since earlier at the hackerspace at least. Sure, we've hugged before, gotten shitfaced together multiple times and had a few good talks, but they were always short-lived because we were both so committed to taking down Blume.

But things were different now. The group was more laid-back and we had time to work on other aspects of our lives. Of course, fighting the good fight always took top priority for us, hence why we're stuck in a closet right now, but with Blume's corrupt CTO out of the way, the world was a significantly better place. We deserved some time to allow our victory to sink in and relax.

Our much needed relaxation would have to wait until we're back at the hackerspace though. I willed my thoughts away and focused on the situation at hand. I didn't hear the loud footsteps anymore, which was a good sign.

"Think he's gone?" Marcus whispered, lowering his mask from concealing his face.

I shifted around and opened the door to a crack. There was a large, husky man standing just outside the office. Armed with a mop, mp3 player, and various cleaning products on his utility belt, he was cleaning the floors leisurely, occasionally stopping to sway from side to side to the beat of his music. Sighing, I shut the door and turned to Marcus.

"I think we're gonna be hanging out here for a while," I mumbled. "There's a janitor right outside."

"I could just knock him out with my stun gun," Marcus replied. "He wouldn't even see it coming—"

"We're not going to resort to violence unless we have to, okay?"

"Fine, it's your call. We'll just hang out in the Pharmingtons CEO's office for a bit. No big deal, ain't got nothing better to do."

"You do know that it was your idea to come here in the first place, right?"

"I was hoping to be in and out, and not going to jail for trespassing, or breaking and entering."

"Calm down, we're not going to get caught. Save the stun gun for the smug assholes that deserve it, not every day people just trying to make a living."

"Alright, alright, if you put it that way…" He secured his weapon beneath his jacket and out of sight.

"There you go," I smiled. "Give the guy a break, he's probably cleaned far too many dirty toilets today."

"Damn girl, I see you. Standing up for the underdog and all that. I respect it."

"Good. Because the way I see it, if I don't stand up for them, who else will?"

"Preach. I could definitely take a few pages from your book, cause' I think I've been getting too in touch with my violent side lately. I had to do a lot of shit I wouldn't normally do to stop Blume. But then again, maybe I've just been hanging out with Wrench too much."

"Maybe. You and Wrench are literally inseparable."

"Well that statement can't be accurate because technically, he's at the hackerspace and I'm here." He squeezed my hand lightly, his fingers intertwining with mine. My heart sped up. I didn't even realize we were still holding hands. "And to be honest, if I could choose anyone in the world to be stuck in a closet with, it'd be you."

A wide, goofy smile spread across my face. "Marcus, you are such a flirt."

His broad, masculine frame gravitated to me, slow and hesitantly, giving me more than enough time to pull away. But I didn't. Although I'd never admit it aloud, his closeness made me feel safe and content. It always has. "Yeah, I guess I am a flirt. I only turn on my charm for you though."

"Really now? What about when you're shitfaced drunk or high, and hitting on everything that moves?"

"In my defense, I'm probably not very charming when I'm shitfaced or having an acid trip."

"No, you're more obnoxious than anything. You are much, much better to be around when you're sober. Pot is fine though. Anything more than that is a no-no."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind. You smoke?"

"I do, here and there."

"Aw, damn. Why am I just finding out about this now? We gotta smoke a joint together one of these days."

"You know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. Can I pick your brain a little while we're at it? I hear some people get really philosophical on cloud nine. You seem like the type."

"Luckily for you, I'm an open book. My goals, morals and values— I can fill you in on it whenever you have the time. All you gotta do is let me know when you're available. We can get out of the hackerspace and hang out somewhere else for a change."

"Whoa, slow your roll, Prince Charming. Are you asking me out on a date?"

He cleared his throat before speaking, putting on his silly, refined and sophisticated impression again. "In fact, I am, my lady. Would you be so kind to accompany me around the city, say… tomorrow evening at eight? Promise I'll be punctual."

He beamed at me, revealing his even, pearly white teeth. God, that smile. It made my nerve ends tingle.

"Well, I had plans for tomorrow, but maybe I can reschedule a few things. We'll see, since your offer sounds so very tempting."

Marcus leaned in closer, his stubbled cheek brushing over mine. "Yeah? You sure?" He muttered into my ear, his voice deepening.

"Uh-huh," I murmured, almost breathlessly. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. It was getting so hot in here.

"Guys, I found something," Josh's voice blurted through our earbuds. "Get back to the hackerspace now."

"Yeah, you guys are gonna wanna see this," Wrench added.

Marcus reluctantly drew away, and secured his mask back over his face. I let out a sigh, desperate to relieve the tension in my muscles. My knees were so weak, I thought they were going to give out any moment now. The thought of going on a date with him excited me, and scared the living Hell out of me at the same time.

Tomorrow night was going to be interesting.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Leave a review if you liked :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Marcus**

The moment Sitara and I made it back to the hackerspace, we gathered around Josh and was soon joined by Wrench. Josh sat at his computer desk as always, eyes glued to a paused, grainy video on his monitor's bright screen. The lighting was terrible, and so was the video quality. I could just barely make out the scenery.

From the looks of it, it was a toolshed. The camera recording the scene was situated on the ceiling, the lens angled downward to present a broad view of the entire space for viewers to see. There was a bunch of various hammers, saws, screwdrivers and other rusted tools hanging from weathered, splintery wooden walls. A couple of rakes and shovels were leaning in the corner of the shed too. It was so dark and eerie, the shit had horror movie written all over it.

That wasn't the worst of it though.

There was a man tied to a steel chair in the middle of the room. His arms and legs were restrained by rope, and a black burlap sack was over his head, concealing his face.

"What is this freaky shit?" I asked.

"Yeah Josh, I'm confused," Sitara said. "What is this?"

"I found this in the Pharmingtons CEO's inbox," Josh replied. "Just watch."

He clicked the play icon, and the video set in motion. The dude bound to his chair wrestled and shuffled about helplessly, desperately trying to free himself. The video had no sound, so we couldn't hear his struggling, which I was thankful for. But the silence made it even more unsettling to watch.

A man strolled into the tool. He was massive, built and stocky— the type of dude you'd think twice about fucking with. Guaranteed seven-foot-tall, or maybe an inch or so under that. He wore a black, vinyl butcher apron, jeans, and a burlap sack over his head just like the other guy, except his had holes cut out around the eyes so he could see.

I had this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something terrible was about to go down. Sitara must had felt it too. Her narrow frame was huddled near mine, slender fingers gripping my jacket. I've seen more than my fair share of serial killer movies, and the big ass dude with the butcher apron had super, obnoxiously obvious murder vibes. I would had been fine with watching it too, if it actually was just a horror movie.

This was something else entirely. It was raw, gritty, and undeniably… real. Josh wouldn't had wasted our time showing us this otherwise.

The butcher dude lurked toward the array of tools lining the wall. He observed them for a long while. The sick fuck was probably debating which one he wanted to use.

"I bet you a beer he's gonna pick the saw," Wrench muttered, appearing beside me.

"Anything but the saw," I frowned. "Please Lord, not the saw…"

And of course, despite my prayers, he latched onto the saw. With his chosen weapon of murder and doom in hand, he turned and closed in on the poor soul still wrestling with his restraints. He didn't even know what was coming, blinded by the sack over his head. I knew what was about to happen, but I couldn't look away, because there was a part of me keeping faith that it would end differently. Someone would barge in and save the victim from harm's way, or maybe he'd find a way out of the restraints at the last second and get the Hell out of there. It wasn't over yet.

The butcher raised the sharp, rusted saw high above his victim's head. In one swift strike, the top of his cranium had split in two, blood gushing rapidly from his skull.

"Holy fuck," I grimaced. The gore had my flesh crawling.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sitara turned and paced away, holding her stomach.

Josh paused the video, and whirled around in his chair to face us. "Yeah, this is bad, like really bad."

"Bad is putting it lightly, man," I exclaimed. "This is fucked! Who would do some sick shit like that?"

"Some deranged asshole with too much time on his hands," Wrench answered. "Man, and I thought I had problems. This guy is a fucking psychopath."

"Someone sent this to the CEO, but I can't trace it back," Josh said. "They've covered their tracks really well. It's a dead end."

"Guys, I hate to be the voice of reason here, but solving murder mysteries is not part of DedSec's job description," Wrench said. "We're hackers, not feds or detectives. Although it'd be cool to be Sherlock Holmes for a day but still—"

"Nah, fuck that," I grumbled. "We gotta find this motherfucker. Trust me, this wasn't the first guy he killed. What if the dude in the footage that got executed is one people who went missing recently? There's no way to identify him with the bag over his head and shit, but it'd be too big of a coincidence for there not to be a connection, right?"

"It's possible," Josh responded. "The email was sent a month ago, just as the missing persons reports had begun to spike dramatically."

"See, the timing can't be a coincidence," I said. "You know what I can't wrap my head around though? Why would a serial killer send some shit like this to the CEO of Pharmingtons? What is there to gain?"

"Could be a threat," Josh said. "Maybe extortion? She's rich."

I shook my head. "I dunno man, maybe. I feel like there's more to it."

Josh spun around, returning his attention to his computer. "I'm going to scour through the data you transferred from the CEO one more time, just for safe measure. If I find anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks man."

"No problem. You had a long day, you should get some sleep. The sun will be rising in approximately four hours."

"Yeah, no doubt. You should get some rest too, that data will be there in the morning. You work too damn hard."

"Did you know British soldiers were the first to develop a method for staying up thirty-six hours straight without sleep?"

"Uh, nah. But that's cool man."

"When fatigued, they wore special visors that emulated the brightness of sunrise, and it woke them up. I'm in the process of making my own. I'd be much more productive that way."

"Sunlight emulation?" Two question marks appeared on Wrench's mask. "Wonder if I can reconfigure my mask to do the same thing."

"We could binge on Jimmy Siska movies like you wouldn't believe." I feigned a smile.

"Dude, creating a sunlight emulating mask is totally on my bucket-list now. Anyhow, as much as I didn't enjoy watching some random guy get brutally murdered, it made for a pretty good reminder of how fucked up this world is, and why robots are much better than people. I'm gonna head back to the garage to put some finishing touches on Wrench Jr. 2.0. See ya' in the morning detective M."

"All right," we gave one another a fist bump. "Stay safe man."

"Sure thing, I'll try not to get kidnapped along the way."

"Really Wrench?" Sitara asked, lying prone across the couch.

"What? Too soon for morbid banter?"

"Much too soon, my stomach still feels queasy," she murmured.

Wrench grinned, heading toward the exit of the hackerspace. "Sorry Sitara. Break a leg at the breast cancer fundraiser tomorrow. I'll be rooting for ya'. Oh, and M, meet me at the garage tomorrow when you get a chance!"

"Will do," I called out as he turned and disappeared up the staircase.

So that's what Sitara had planned for tomorrow. I wasn't surprised, she always jumped at any opportunity to support a good cause. If she wasn't rallying against corporate corruption or the wealth inequality of capitalism, she was at the hackerspace helping us fight ctOS. The girl had a big heart, and wasn't afraid to stand up for what's right.

I joined Sitara at the couch, leaned over the back of it and gazed down at her. Observing her from this angle struck me with a lightheaded sensation, butterflies invading my stomach. I forgot about the whole nine yards of bad shit that's been happening lately, like Pharmingtons, the missing people, the shady video— for a moment, it all didn't seem to matter. My thoughts and concentration had completely fixated on her.

She was wearing her usual denim shorts. They hugged her delicately built hips tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Her thick, knee high socks did well to conceal her ankles, but left her tanned, supple thighs exposed. They were toned from her frequent free running. I found myself fantasizing about her legs on more than one occasion, distracted by the thought of how damn good they'd feel to finally touch.

Damn, I was crushing hard on her.

I was trying to keep it under wraps though. I mean, I couldn't help but flirt with her here and there, I was only human after all. But it was a constant battle trying not to get fully immersed in admiring her body. Nobody caught me checking her out yet, at least I didn't think anyone did, so I was doing a good job keeping it on the down low so far. Wasn't sure how long that was gonna last at this rate though.

Her glittering blue and green rogued eyelids were heavy, and her arm had hung limply off the couch. She looked so exhausted.

"Hey girl, how you doin?" I asked. "You hangin' in there okay?"

"I'm trying Marcus, it's been such a long day," she mumbled. "What are you up to? Heading home soon?"

"Nah," I gave her captivating frame a once-over. "I'm just enjoying the view."

She smiled weakly, her soft, manicured hand lifted to caress my cheek. "Stop being so sweet and affectionate all the time. You're too good at making me smile and I just wanna be sad right now."

My face grew hot beneath her touch. How'd she get me to blush so easily all the time? I needed to get better at taking compliments, and fast. I lowered my head, the brim of my hat shielded my face from her sight.

"That video," she continued. "I can't shake it. To think that that could be happening to all those missing people…"

I nodded. "There's some fucked up people in this world."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Wrench thinks we should turn a blind eye and leave it to the cops, but people keep disappearing and I don't see them doing shit about it. Doesn't feel right to sit this one out."

"Whatever you decide to do, just know that we're all on your side. We all trust you, including Wrench. You earned that, Marcus. You've never guided us in the wrong direction before."

"Nuh-uh, you give me too much credit sometimes. I'm pretty sure it was luck on more than one occasion."

"Or, it could've been you being… you?"

"Nope," I teased. "Definitely ain't that."

"Don't tell me you forgot about how much of a wonderful, amazing man you are—"

"S-stop," I stammered, unable to stop myself from chuckling. "You know I can't take flattery."

"You'll get used to it one day." A drawn-out yawn escaped her full lips. "I so need to get my sleeping schedule back on track. It's already so late, and the fundraiser starts at nine in the morning. I'm going home, I need a proper bed to sleep in tonight. This couch isn't cutting it."

"Need a lift?"

"No need, I'll be fine."

"You sure? I'd feel more comfortable escorting you there myself, considering everything that's been going on lately…"

"Marcus, I'm a big girl, don't worry. You know how close my apartment is from here. I'll be okay."

"Alright, my bad." I took her hand and helped her to her feet. "Promise me you'll be careful though?"

"I always am."

"Cool. So, I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck with the fundraiser." Just as I began to turn away, she tapped my shoulder gently. I gazed at her and smiled. "You good?"

"Yeah, um…" She fumbled with her green bracelet nervously, her delicate eyes stuck to her boots. "I'll be busy most of the day with the fundraiser, but we can still go on that date, if you want? At eight?"

"Oh, for sure." Even though Sitara was adorable when she was nervous, I didn't want her to be intimidated by little ol' me. I nudged her tense frame playfully. "You know I'm always down to chill. How about we meet up outside Games & Glory, and take it from there?"

"Okay, sounds like a plan. See you then, Marcus."

* * *

It was a bright, sunny spring afternoon in the heart of San Francisco. Birds were chirping, the cloudless sky was an endless blanket of blue, and the sun beamed into my face through the windshield of my car. Thankfully, there was a nice breeze to combat the rising temperatures.

The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians enjoying the weather. People were window shopping, loitering about and chatting. Gotta love the shopping district. Buskers had played music and entertained those passing by, kids with backpacks were hustling home from school, dog walkers were playing with their most trusted companions…

Man, I envied them. I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in what seemed to be the busiest intersection on the fucking planet. I swear it's been about fifteen minutes since anyone has moved. The road rage was crazy. Horns were honking like mad, drivers were shouting at each other from their rearview windows like lunatics. They were throwing insults at one another like it was going out of style.

I was tempted to start honking my horn and lashing out at people as well, as if that'd fucking help anything. I had shit to do and places to be. As frustrated as I was, it was pretty funny listening to the colorful slander and outrage.

I secured my earbuds into my ear, tuning out the rage, and grabbed my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Wrench's number, and tapped the call icon. His phone rung twice before he picked up.

"Hello, this is The Wrench speaking," he said.

"Hey man," I greeted. "I'm on my way to the garage, but I'm gonna be late. I'm stuck in traffic. Yo, the road rage is fucking priceless, I wish you could hear some of this shit. You ever been called a cock-muppet before?"

"Nah, but I'm known on many forums as a cock-shiner and a mouth breather."

"No shit? I think I rather be a cock-muppet than a cock-shiner, and mouth breather. Muppets are actually pretty cool."

"Yeah, except you wouldn't be a frog, or a pig, or the cookie monster. You'd be a cock made out of cheap fabric and stuffing. But to each his own. It took some time, but now I wear the title of a cock-shining mouth breather with pride. By the way, you couldn't find a better time to drive here? It's fucking rush hour."

"Give me a break. I've been busy all day, tryna' fit a whole lot of bullshit into my schedule. Had to pay the rent, get a haircut, do my laundry, grocery shopping… Now is the only free time I have to meet up with you because I got even more shit to do later."

"Might I ask what exactly? Or is it a secret?"

"Since when have I kept secrets from you?"

"Well, funny you asked, because I heard from an outside source that you have the hots for Sitara."

I furrowed my brows. "Really? And who was the outside source that disclosed such information?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you—"

"You and Sitara have been talking, am I right?"

"I know all about your hot, and steamy seven minutes in heaven escapades at Pharmingtons," He continued, ignoring my question. "The smooth lines, the sweat, the passion, and the unmeasurable amount of sexual tension—"

"Fuck you," I grinned. Traffic had finally started moving again, thank the Lord. "Alright, the traffic jam is easing up, so I'll see you soon man."

"Do what you must to survive the salt and road rage, my friend. Godspeed!"

I hung up with a smile. Typical Wrench. He always found a way to brighten my day. What else were best friends for right? How in the fuck did he know so much about me and Sitara though? Did he tap my phone or some shit? Nah, he wouldn't do that. I bet him and Sitara have been talking. He sure as Hell avoided my question when I asked him earlier.

My phone began to vibrate in my lap. I stole a quick peek at it. Josh was calling. I answered, silently praying he found something— anything to help us get back on track with solving the shitload of mysterious disappearances around the state.

"Got some good news for me?" I asked.

"I found a lead," Josh replied. "I've been looking over the missing persons reports, and noticed something odd. I'm texting you an address of a restaurant in Elmhurst, Oakland. Nine out of the fifteen people who have gone missing in the district were last seen there. Too big of a coincidence to ignore."

"Yeah, way too big. The cops didn't think to check the place out?"

"They did but failed to find anything to help the investigation. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Yeah, maybe. I'll head there as soon as I'm done meeting up with Wrench. Thanks."

"Be careful Marcus."

After another thirty minutes of pure agony battling with traffic, I finally pulled up to Wrench's garage. I parked along his concrete drive way and exited the car. He awaited me at the garage's wide, white doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His mask flashed with two large circles as soon as he laid eyes on me.

"What's good, man?" I asked, stepping up to him. "We going inside or…?"

"M?" He asked, head tilted to the side as he stared at me. "I-is that you?"

"Uh, yeah it's me. Why?"

"You look different." He circled around me slowly, studying me intently. "Like really different."

"What? You're making me nervous man."

"Your DedSec duds! They're gone! You don't look like a hipster anymore. You must be an imposter. Who are you and what have you done with Marcus?"

I grinned, glancing down at myself. I wore my favorite pair of black leather joggers, white hi-tops, and a white and black hoodie to match. Wrench has never seen me on a normal day, when I wasn't trying to keep a low profile from ctOS. He probably wasn't aware of the date I had planned in a few hours either. I guess he didn't know everything under the sun after all.

"Yo, chill out," I said, raising my palms defensively. "It's me. Felt like switching up my style for once. That's all."

"Sure," he said sarcastically. "Well, I'm digging the new duds. That designer hoodie looks great on you; the poker print really brings out your eyes."

"For real?" I asked, peering down at the large, king of diamonds depiction etched into front of my hoodie. "It's on sale at Street Flex, if you wanna pick one up real quick."

"No thanks. I'm more of an Axle Boardshop with a mix of Torque Rat Bike, if you get what I mean."

"I feel you. So, you need something right? I can't stay long."

Two question marks appeared on his mask. "What's the rush, M? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Being stuck in traffic really fucked my schedule, that's all."

"Well, I'll make this quick then. I wanted to link up so we can talk about the sudden disappearances around the city you, Josh and Sitara have been investigating. I know I'm not the one to pass the buck when shit hits the fan, but I really, really think we should let this go. It's too dangerous."

I narrowed my eyes at him. It wasn't like Wrench to back down from a fight, or anything, for that matter. He actually jumped at any opportunity to bring some pain. What was he so afraid of? "Wrench, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Dude, remember the creepy video Josh found? Where the dude got his dome sawed in two?

"Fuck yeah I remember, ain't gonna forget it anytime soon. What about it?"

"I couldn't sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I'd see it. I've seen a lot of fucked up shit M, but that video takes the cake."

"That's exactly why we can't let this go—"

"No M, that's exactly why we _should_ let it go. What if one of us ends up like that guy?"

"Don't say shit like that—"

"Dude, we should stick to what we do best, like hacking, and fucking nailing the rest of the smug fucks in the world like Dušan. Since when did it become our responsibility to chase after murdering psychopaths? We have so much other shit on our plate to worry about. This isn't our problem."

I glared at him, muscles tensing. "How could you say that, man? Human beings are literally disappearing right under our fucking noses, never to be seen again. People's mothers, their fathers, sisters, and brothers— gone. If you don't give a shit, that's on you. But I ain't about to sit on my ass and pretend everything's just fucking peachy. Fuck that."

I turned for my silver Sedan, only for Wrench's tattooed hand to clutch my arm tightly, holding me in place. "Dude, wait. Just fucking chill, alright? I do care, it's just… this path your heading down, it's a dark one. Let's say you do find the guy responsible for kidnapping and murdering that dude in the video. What do you do? Force him to turn himself in? Or do you take justice into your own hands?"

I sighed, lips pressed together in a tight grimace. I never thought that far into the whole situation. I honestly didn't have an answer.

"Becoming a self-appointed doer of justice— a vigilante or whatever, it changes you dude. I've been there before, and it wasn't pretty." He let go of my arm, and pat my shoulder gently. "Whatever happens, just keep that in mind, okay?"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you like, feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sitara**

Dolores Park was lively this evening. It's long plain of freshly cut grass was populated by dozens of people enjoying the outdoors. Couples and families were lying out on blankets conversing, kids ran about playing tag with their friends. There was also a fair share of adorable dogs who pranced about as well. The sound of people chatting and children's laughter, flies buzzing and squirrels rustling through bushes filled the air.

The sun was slowly sinking lower behind the clouds, painting the sky with deep shades of red and pink. It wouldn't be too much longer before the velvety darkness of the night overwhelmed the park, as well as annoying mosquitos.

I hung out on my lonesome, crouched down on the backrest of a bench, my feet planted on the seat. It was nice being around so many good vibes, and the delightful earthy scent of flowers and grass made for a relaxing atmosphere.

Considering how late I arrived home from the hackerspace last night, only to wake up bright and early for the fundraiser with little to no sleep— it took a lot out of me. I was worn out and overworked. I honestly needed some R&R, and a little fun wouldn't hurt either.

Marcus should be here any minute. I texted him to meet me here instead of Gary's. There was no way I was gonna miss out on watching a gorgeous sunset like this—

 ** _Thud!_**

A sudden crashing noise against pavement, followed by a yelp and obnoxious laughter forced my eyes away from the sky and toward the source of the commotion. A young boy laid face first on the park's narrow, concrete path, a skateboard at his feet. He must had fallen off, poor kid. Carefully, he stood up, brushing off the fall. Thank God he was equipped with a helmet and safety gear. Without it, who knew what kind of injuries he would had sustained.

As if taking a dive off his board wasn't embarrassing enough, a group of much older children surrounded him— teenagers by the looks of it, all of them grinning like hyenas.

"You pushed me dummy!" The boy yelled, glaring daggers into one of the tall teenagers surrounding him.

The teenager cackled menacingly, and shoved the boy back onto the ground. "Oops, did it again," he snorted.

My body tensed as I observed the scene unfolding right in front of me. What a fucking bully. God, kids could be so cruel. No one raised a finger to stop it either. Everyone just casually went about their business as if nothing was happening. Little did they know, they were just as guilty as the bully for enabling him. Jesus, these people needed to wake up. Ugh, so much for good vibes this place had earlier.

Since no one else had the balls to do anything, I was forced to take matters into my own hands. I whipped out my phone, and profiled the biggest bully of them all.

Bradley Walker, a seventeen-year-old high school student. Judging by his varsity jacket, he must be part of the jock crowd. Douche bag jocks had a tendency to be popular— their thick skulls forever concerned with upholding their reputation above everything.

Unfortunately for him, his phone was susceptible to overheating. I bet I could crank up the heat. Would be a shame if his device were to suffer such a critical malfunction in the middle of his little power trip, in front of all of his friends. And to think, at one point I thought hacking was only useful for putting crummy tech giants in their place.

His boisterous cackling came to a complete halt once I took advantage of the overheat opportunity. He croaked, a tight grimace appeared on his face as he wrestled his phone out of his jean pocket. The device was literally smoking. He juggled his scorching phone in the palms of his hands, trying desperately to cool it off. His posse gawked at him, dumbfounded. With the group of teenagers distracted, the young boy was able to snatch up his skateboard and skip to his feet. He quickly scurried off out of the park.

The bully, unable to handle his phone's searing temperature, decided to hurl through the air into a row of bushes. His friends busted into laughter at him. Face reddening like a tomato, he stormed off out of the park.

Good riddance. A mishap like that was bound to get around and hurt his reputation among his peers. Maybe that oughta' teach him a lesson—

A pair of strong arms enclosed around me from behind, disrupting my train of thought. The sudden embrace was distinctively gentle, cozy and comforting. In mere seconds, my annoyance and agitation with the whole bullying situation faded away. With the tension and stress gone, a feeling of peacefulness and content washed over me.

There was only one person in the world who could melt my problems away with his touch alone.

"Marcus…" I mumbled, leaning back against his broad chest.

"Hey gorgeous," he greeted softly. "How you doin'?"

"Better, now that you're here."

"Aw, I missed you too." He planted a tender kiss on my cheek. "Been dying to see you all day."

A pang invaded my chest from the abrupt overload of sweetness. I spun around to face him, my thighs snuggling his. I brushed a hand over his clean white hoodie. To my surprise, he wasn't wearing his usual DedSec apparel. I loved when he represented our brand for all to see, yet I too wasn't disappointed feasting my eyes on his new look either.

Marcus' joggers weren't too tight or loose, the dark fabric hugged his legs just right. His hoodie's colorful poker print was definitely loud and flashy, I'm sure it turned more than a few heads on his way here. It fit his personality.

He looked great, but the icing on cake? For the first time ever, he wasn't concealing his gorgeous features behind the cover of his hat.

Marcus' chiseled face was much easier to admire without the brim of his hat getting in the way. And not only that, he had hair for crying out loud! I've only had the luxury of seeing it once, that night on the beach when he had first joined DedSec. But never up close and personal…

Against my better judgement, I found my hand smoothing along the shaved sides of his head. My fingers travelled upwards, caressing his short, thick strands. His dark, curly hair was a Hell of a lot softer than I thought it would be. I wonder how long I could play with it and not get bored. At this rate, it'd be a while.

He stared at me, a broad grin on his face. "Sitara?"

"Your hair…" I muttered, noticing it's subtle, natural wave pattern. Never thought I'd be the type of girl to gush over a dude's hair. Marcus was the first. He had a track record for making me do crazy things and experience feelings I've never thought possible. Still, I needed to get a grip. I wish it was that easy though. "I forbid you from ever, ever wearing your hat again."

"Damn, already making demands this early in the relationship?" He teased.

"I'm serious, jerk. Your hair is gorgeous—"

He blushed and captured my hand, his calloused fingers smoothed over my skin delicately. "We've got the whole night to ourselves for you to coax me with sweet talk. But first, there's somewhere I wanna take you."

"Where?"

"There's this Italian restaurant in Oakland I've been dying to check out. It's a little bit of a drive, but I heard the food there was dope. You down? It'd be my treat."

"A restaurant?" I shook my head. "You know you don't have to strain your wallet trying to impress me right? Society may think a proper date entails dining at some overly expensive, swanky restaurant, but screw that noise. We can have just as much of a good time at a bar, or a hole in the wall diner for all I care."

"Nah, it ain't nothing like that. Like I said, I heard the food was good, and to be honest, I'm starving. I could really go for some breadsticks and a beer right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, stop worrying about the expenses. I got you. C'mon. I'm parked outside of Gary's."

"But Marcus, what's the rush?" I whined playfully. "Can't we just chill here for a little longer? I have such a good seat."

He took a quick glance at the cloudy, pinkish blue twilight sky. "I'm down to chill literally anywhere else, but here. The sun is about to set, and its mosquito season. You know how I get about bloodsucking bugs."

"Right, sorry. I'm just having a lazy day. Hardly slept last night, and then there was the fundraiser—"

"Worry not, my lady," he abruptly turned his back to me. "For I am your royal steed."

"My royal steed?" I stared at him blankly, unsure of what he was proposing. It took a moment or two, but it eventually all clicked once he arched his upper body slightly, to give me a better angle to scale atop of him. "Oh, you wanna give me piggyback ride huh?"

"Hell yeah, it'll be fun. C'mon, you ain't gonna leave me hanging, are you?"

"Depends. You won't drop me, will you?"

"Nah, of course not. I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

Although his tone reeked of sarcasm, I knew he was just teasing. After all, the idea of him carrying me around did sound kinda fun. I gripped his broad shoulders and he cupped my thighs, hoisting me up and onto his powerful back effortlessly— as if I were as light as a feather. He maneuvered around the bench and stepped onto the concrete path leading out of the park.

"You're a lot lighter than I thought you'd be," he stated.

I hugged my arms around his neck. "Good, because I can get used to this kind of treatment. You make a great horsey."

He cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me? I'm your royal steed, Sitara. Not a horsey. The terminology means everything."

"What's the difference?"

"Steed sounds bad ass, whereas horsey sounds, well, like the exact opposite of bad ass. Regardless, this is a one-time thing, girl. I can't spoil you all the time."

"Oh, come on, you know you want to. You like carrying me around like a good little horsey, don't you? Admit it."

"I would, but lying ain't really my thing. See, on the many occasions that I've thought about you riding me, this isn't exactly how I imagined it going down—"

"J-Jesus Marcus!" I stammered, punching his shoulder almost involuntarily. My face felt like it was fire. "Dirty much?"

He glanced at me, his deep brown eyes softening. "Sorry, am I coming on too strong? Sometimes I can't help myself when I'm around you. My bad though, I'll be good for now on. Promise."

"No, I don't want you to behave, or be anything other than yourself Marcus. You just caught me off guard with that one, that's all."

Normally, I didn't mind his dirty jokes. Sometimes, they were kinda funny actually. But this was the first he had openly directed toward me. If it had come from the mouth of anyone else, I'd probably kick their ass. Hearing it from Marcus made me feel… flattered— special even.

God, the way he made me feel. All these emotions! One second I was elated, walking on sunshine, and the next, I was painfully shy and flustered. And that was just scratching the surface of it all. How in the world could I deal with so many at once? It was driving me crazy.

"By the way, how was your day?" Marcus asked. "Did the fundraiser go well? You make any dough?"

"A good amount," I answered. "And it's all going to a good cause. So my day was going perfectly well, that is— until a bunch of snot nosed losers ruined it."

"How so? Someone been fucking with you? Need me to teach them a lesson? Whoop some ass maybe?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Violence only breeds violence Marcus. It's a vicious cycle."

"I feel you. Although, I don't necessarily have to get physically violent to teach someone a lesson…" He paused, his voice deepening to put on his infamous Jimmy Siska impression. "I could always deliver some much needed cyber justice—"

"God, you are such a dweeb." I chuckled. "Seriously though, there was a mob of high school kids, seniors probably, bullying a younger kid in the middle of the park in front of everyone, and no one raised a finger to stop it. I had to step in, but you have no idea how badly that crap triggered me. It was a mess."

"That's fucked. Sad thing is, it's a dog eat dog world, especially in high school. Teens who come from abusive homes have a tendency to redirect their anger and aggression toward those who are weaker. It makes them feel powerful and in control. They thrive on that shit. But that's only one case. There's a fuck-ton of reasons why kids bully one another."

"And not a single one seems justifiable to me. It's all petty bullshit. People need to get over themselves."

We reached Marcus' car. It was parked along the sidewalk outside of Gary's Games and Glory. The sun had completely disappeared behind the city's massive buildings in the distance. However, the metropolitan street and store lights did well to ward away the velvety darkness of the night. And the area was still just as lively too. Cars zoomed through avenues, and people casually loitered about with friends, their conversations amongst one another filled the air.

On top of that, there was pop music blasting from the alleyway just beside the game store. The beat was slow and sensual, yet the base was heavy. It must had been coming from a radio, an expensive one at that, considering how pristine the sound quality was.

Marcus set me down on the sidewalk, just before the passenger door of his car. "Damn, that beat is pretty dope," he said, his head bobbing to the tempo lightly. "I can get down with this."

"Can you?" I teased, hands on my hips. "Because now that you mention it, I've never seen you dance before. Do you even have rhythm? It's okay if you don't, it'd explain why I never seen you on the dancefloor."

His thick brows raised and his mouth slackened in disbelief. "What? Did you just say what I think you said?" He pointed at himself. "Me? No rhythm? Girl, you trippin'. I got footwork for days—"

I cupped my palm over his full lips, silencing him. "Prove me wrong then?"

Marcus seized my hand and smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He twirled me around and captured my hips mid-spin, pinning me against his muscular frame. The suddenness of his passionate embrace left me breathless. Without a care in the world regarding the people around us and whether they were watching, we grinded on one another slow and sensually to the beat, our bodies molding together shamelessly.

My temperature literally skyrocketed. Sweat dampened my hairline and trickled down the side of my forehead. We were seriously grinding on each other like rabbits on a crowded sidewalk, right outside of the hackerspace. There were bound to be people who recognized me lurking about, but honestly, I didn't care. Everyone and everything faded to the background when Marcus was around.

I felt every remote movement and curve of his athletic body— from the solid planes of his chest and sculpted pectoral muscles, down to the stiffness in his lower midsection. I wasn't sure if it was the hard barrel of his stun gun he always carried around, or something else entirely…

His blunt fingers slowly travelled up my sides to the nape of my neck. He brushed my hood aside and caressed my skin fondly for a short while. I've never been one to shy away from public displays of affection, although I did have my boundaries. Sure, we were already nearing the tip of the iceberg with the dry humping in front of everyone, but Marcus' massages had always stripped my inhibitions away. Not necessarily on the account of how good they felt, but mostly because it was such a kind, thoughtful gesture. He never expected a thing in return either. He was too giving for his own good.

"You gonna take back what you said about me having no rhythm?" Marcus asked. His lips inched tantalizingly close to my neck. The sensation of his warm breath on my bare shoulder was enough to make my knees quake. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he stopped his advance just short of the crook of my neck. I shivered. What a tease.

"Your decent," I found the strength to mutter. "You got moves, and you can flow to the beat pretty well, I'll give you that."

He smiled and reluctantly drew away from me. With him at a distance, I was able to catch my breath and calm my teetering nerves. Although, I missed his warmth and safe embrace. I could never get enough of it.

"Alright, so now that we've got the whole rhythm thing cleared up…" He turned for his car and opened the passenger door for me. "You ready to go?"

I nodded, and hopped into the passenger seat.

* * *

Marcus and I slid side by side into the leather cushioned booth near the corner of the restaurant. The place was definitely classy. The fancy chandelier lights were dim, and every polished table was well lit with flickering candles. The service wasn't bad either— our waiter, a clean-shaven dude in a suit and bowtie, was quick to arrive at our table to serve us. In his hand was a plateful of freshly baked, buttery breadsticks. My mouth watered. He laid the delicious looking baked goodies on the clean white tablecloth and proceeded to take our orders.

"You know what, I think I'll take the steak and fries man," Marcus declared after a brief inspection of the menu.

"Very well," the waiter feigned a smile at him before shifting his attention to me. "And for you, Ms?"

"Um…" I fumbled, still nose deep in reading the menu. "Crap, I'm torn between the veggie burger and the wild mushroom ravioli."

"Mushrooms?" He cringed. "Nasty."

"Meh," I shrugged my shoulders. "Just give me the veggie burger, well done please."

"And what may I get you both to drink tonight?" The waiter asked.

"Beer," Marcus and I said in unison.

"Lager or ale?"

"Lager," I answered. "We prefer pale. Budweiser or Heineken would be just fine."

"Splendid. I'll return with your drinks shortly." He grabbed our menus and hurried away.

Marcus lowered his head and stared at the waiter until he disappeared into the chef's kitchen. He then stole a furtive glance around the restaurant, eyeing the security cameras for a split second before dropping his gaze to his phone. He was practically hiding it under the table so no one could see.

"Marcus?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, my bad," he stuffed his phone into his hoodie's pocket and gazed at me. "Wrench posted a rare Pepe meme. I had to upvote it real quick or it's bad luck."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Why wouldn't you? Wrench and I are serious about our dank memes. And not to brag or nothing, but in case you didn't know, we're admins of a mildly successful meme page."

"This must be the part when I tell you to drink bleach," I teased.

"Savage," he grinned.

"Seriously though, were you really just looking at memes? Or should I be worried right now?"

He shifted toward me and grasped my hand, our fingers intertwining. "Don't worry, everything's fine," he said softly. "I'm sorry I got distracted earlier. You have my full attention now, alright?"

"I'm such a worrywart, aren't I?"

"A little, but it's cute girl. I don't want you to change."

Smiling, I turned toward him as well. With a drawn-out sigh, I snuggled up to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He locked his strong arm around my waist and held me against him, his fingertips smoothed over my thigh tenderly. The savory scent of his fresh, earthy aftershave filled my nostrils with every breath I took.

"You're perfect just the way you are," he said. "You know that right?"

"I'm glad someone thinks so," I slowly ran my hand up his chest. My fingers reaching his neck, I fondled the nape delicately, returning the favor for the massage he gave me earlier. He sighed contently, and pecked my chin lightly, mouthing a 'thank you'.

We silently cuddled and caressed one another lovingly for quite some time. If only we could stay like this forever— just tuning out the entire world itself and letting time waste away into nothingness. No more responsibilities, no more annoying, mundane trials of everyday life. Only peace and relaxation. That'd be a dream come true.

"Sitara?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" I asked.

"Not that I want this to end, because I'm really enjoying the moment, but our food is here. You ready to dig in?"

I blinked, snapping back to reality. Two beautifully decorated plates of hot food were placed in front of us, paired along with our beers. My veggie burger looked delicious. The bun and vegetables were fresh, and the patty cooked well done. But when the heck did it get here? I must had been so preoccupied swooning over Marcus, I didn't even notice our meals had arrived. Talk about embarrassing.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Oh jeez, I didn't realize it was here already—"

"It's all good," he smiled. "Took me a second to catch on myself. It's kinda hard to function like a normal person when you're around."

"You can say that again. You'd think that we'd be used to one another's company by now."

"Right? When you're near, my stomach always feels like Jell-O, and just a moment ago, I thought my heart was about to burst from my chest from cuddles alone. That can't be healthy right?"

"Jeez, are you sure you aren't dying? Do we need to check you into a clinic?"

"We just might. You infected me with the feels, girl— got a brother out here in need medical attention. Who's gonna run ops if I'm hospitalized?"

"You better pull your lovesick butt together, Marcus." I pet his cheek mockingly. "DedSec needs you. I need you."

He beamed at me fondly, his brows arched. Our gazes locked. His cool brown eyes had a chestnut undertone, with subtle hues of bronze around his pupils. I could stare into them forever. Unfortunately, our eye contact didn't last long.

A nervous grin escaped his lips, and he lowered his head. "Damn, we didn't even touch our breadsticks yet!" He captured a breadstick from the plate and held it in front of my lips. "Wanna do the honors girl?"

"Don't mind if I do." I took a bite, savoring the bread's soft, buttery goodness. "Holy crap, it tastes freaking amazing."

"Let me be the judge of that." He tried it next, nodding in approval as he devoured it. "God damn, that is good. You know this restaurant ain't half bad, a little expensive but—" His words are interrupted by a harsh, buzzing noise coming from his hoodie. He freed his vibrating phone from his pocket and took a peek at it. "Wrench is calling. What do you think? Should I pick up?"

"I think tonight is our night together, meaning just you and me, thank you very much," I tapped the reject call icon on his phone. "Wrench can wait a few hours for your attention. He's a big boy. He'll be fine."

"Yeah, you're right. Oh, by the way, he seems to be under the impression that you and I have somethin' going on. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Sitara?"

"What do you mean? Like romantically?"

"Word. Did you tell him anything?"

"No, I haven't said a word."

"Mhmm." He wrinkled his brow. "It's cool if you did. Ain't no big deal."

"No really, I didn't tell him. Honest."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. Real talk though, do you wanna hide this from the others? Because I rather not… I mean, if that's okay with you? I know it might be awkward for them at first but—"

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" I rolled my eyes. "What is this, high school? We're fully grown adults, who gives a shit what anyone else thinks?"

"Alright, relax," he rubbed my shoulder soothingly. "My bad, it was just a question. Sorry I asked."

I sighed. "No, don't be. I should be the one apologizing, I totally overreacted. What I meant to say is, if we don't have any reason to hide the way we feel about each other, then why should we? Whatever this is that we have going on, I'm proud of it."

"I feel you. I'm pretty sure the whole world knows anyway. Lately, there hasn't been any shame in our game when it comes to PDA."

"That's because you're so wonderfully irresistible, and so unbelievably dashing—"

"Stop," he pleaded sweetly, dragging out the "o" for what seemed like forever. It was adorable. "Let's just eat okay? My fragile heart can't take anymore flattery right now."

"Fine. But as much as I'd love to stuff my face right now, I need to make a quick trip to the ladies' room to freshen up. It'll only be like two minutes."

"It's all good, take your time. I'll try and save some breadsticks for ya', no promises though."

"Thanks hun."

The public restrooms were across the restaurant, at the end of a small hall near the backdoor exit. I shouldered open the women's restroom door, the potent smell of bleach and hairspray filling my nose. My legs locked in place once I noticed the harshly flickering lights. The place went from well lit, to pitch black over and over. I could barely see my hand in front of my face. The lightbulb must have had broken. It was pretty eerie to say the least.

The thought of ditching this place and never coming back crossed my mind. But I was already here, I might as well just wash my hands really quick and hightail it back to Marcus. I took a peek under the stalls before making my decision to stay or not. I didn't see any feet, thank God, so I was alone and in the clear for now.

The bathroom was rather spacious at least, with rows and rows of small beige stalls, yet they were all dented and most of them were missing locks. There was a large, foggy square mirror nailed to the whitewashed wall just above a row of rusty sinks. Their leaky faucets continuously dripped and dripped to no end.

 _Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop._

The never-ending plops of water droplets splashing against the ceramic, along with the spooky flickering lights, was enough to drive me insane. For such a nice restaurant, they could at least invest some TLC into their restrooms. The place was in pretty shoddy condition to be honest.

I hurried to the nearest sink, my feet shuffling against the dusty tilted floor. It was so quiet in here. I twisted the hot water knob. Warm water sprouted from the faucet. I wasted little time in drenching my palms with soap from the dispenser, and then dipped my hands beneath the flowing water, hastily scrubbing them clean.

I glanced at the foggy mirror before me, curious of how my hair and makeup was holding up. Just as I did, the flickering lights shut out completely, cloaking the entire space in a thick sheet of darkness.

"What the Hell?" I muttered to myself, a cold chill crawling up my spine. Something wasn't right. I was seriously getting freaked out. My instinct was to bolt for the exit, but it was too damn dark to see anything. I snatched my phone out of my pocket and swiped on the flashlight. Directing the light in front of me and toward the mirror, I spotted the reflection of a man dressed in black, towering over me from behind. His face hidden behind a mask, he held a white, damp cloth in the palm of his hand.

I froze, the sound of my racing heartbeat thrashed in my ears. I tried to cry out, to say something, anything, but all I could produce were incoherent blubbering and whimpers.

Holy fuck-nuggets. I was screwed.

* * *

 **This chapter was a blast to write, I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment if you like, feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Marcus**

I waited for a good minute or two for Sitara to come back. I wasn't cool with the idea of her going off on her own, even if it was just to the bathroom, but I wasn't about to tell her not to. That would have been awkward.

According to Josh's intel, this restaurant had somewhat of a reputation for random mishaps, and general bad shit going down within its proximity. Figured I'd take Sitara here for a date and scope the place out at the same time— kill two birds with one stone sort of thing.

I was starting to get a little concerned now though. How long did it take for someone to wash their hands? Maybe she had to pee or somethin'. Women always took their sweet time in the bathroom, fixing their hair, makeup or whatever. Besides, even if something did happen, Sitara could hold her own. She wasn't to be messed with.

I decided to check on her anyhow, just to be sure.

"Sitara?" I asked, knocking gently on the hardwood door of the women's restroom. "You having some gastrointestinal problems up in there, girl? Those breadsticks were too much for you huh?"

There was no response. Just silence.

"Sitara? You in there?" Still no reply. Weird.

I decided to call her. She always kept her phone handy after all. Her loud, alternative rock ringtone reverberated through the hall. I followed the sound to the end of the corridor, unable to shake this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I found her cell phone lying on the rustic floor, just before the backdoor exit of the restaurant.

My stomach tightened and my muscles tensed. Oh shit… What the fuck was her phone doing here? She never lost her phone before— not even during the countless parties when we've gotten shitfaced together, and she especially wouldn't lose it while sober. Fuck! What could've happened?

I crouched down and recovered Sitara's phone. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I noticed tiny specks of blood leading to the backdoor exit. There were also smudges of blood coating her phone.

Shit! Please tell me this wasn't happening. This had to be some kind of fucked up dream. Someone hurt her, I just know it. She's probably so terrified and confused right now, o-or worse… Fuck, I need to do something.

Maybe if I hack the security cameras and skim through the live footage, I might find a clue or something. But it was so hard to keep my hands steady enough to even use my phone. I couldn't stop shaking; my mind wouldn't stop racing with worst-case scenarios.

Good Lord, this is my all my fault. I shouldn't had taken her here, I knew it was dangerous. Did someone snatch her? It was a probable, just about everyone was vanishing without a fucking trace around here. The same thing happened to Horatio. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone. I couldn't save him. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't smart enough.

Flashbacks of holding Horatio's wheezing, quaking body in my arms flooded my mind. I did everything in my power to make him feel like everything was going to be alright— repeatedly told him that he'd live, and everything would be okay, despite all the blood that spilled on my hands and seeped through my fingers. He put up such a fight, but the blade hit an artery. Regardless of his stalwart will, and how badly I wished for him to live, he died. I failed him.

Fuck… And now I was about to fail Sitara too. No, I couldn't. I wouldn't. Standing here brooding about shit I couldn't change wasn't helping anything.

 _Okay, calm down. Pull yourself together, Marcus._

I took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm my shaking, and attempted to focus on the issue at hand. I could fix this. I'd be smarter this time. I'd be faster. I wasn't gonna let the same shit happen to Sitara. Fuck that.

Instead of toying around with the security feeds, I followed the blood trail out of the restaurant, and into the open night air of a small, shadowy parking lot— all the while keeping a palm on the handle of my stun gun holstered to my hip. The lot was quiet, and empty for the most part. Only a few cars occupied the space. However, there was this one red van parked alongside the curb that captured my attention. It was probably a beater judging by it's old, washed up condition, and the windows were tinted. The engine was still running, yet there was no driver.

Definitely suspicious. I decided to take a closer look.

A sketchy middle-aged dude dressed fully in black stood before the van's trunk, his leather gloved hands gripping the door handles. The guy seemed to had recently finished loading something inside, and was just about to shut the trunk. However, he stopped once he spotted me from the corner of his eye. We stared one another down for a moment, his blue gaze shifting into a scrutinizing glare.

"What do you want?" His grainy voice broke the silence.

"Oh nothin', I was just checkin' out your van," I feigned a smile. "That's one Hell of a fossil you got there. How old is it?"

"Scram kid. I don't got time for conversation."

"Hey, chill out. It was just a question—"

A tight scowl formed on his face. "I'd go about my business if I were you. Haven't you heard? Bad things tend to happen to people around here at this time of night."

"Wait, you're talking about the mysterious disappearances, aren't you? I hear people in this district tend to up and vanish like a fart in a wind, man. Ain't it crazy? If I were you, I would not be in this dark parking lot all by myself. You might get snatched, and then— _Bam!_ You're never seen again, dude. I'm actually doing you a service by sticking around. You're welcome."

He shook his head. "Thanks for the concern, kid. But I can take care of myself. I think you oughta go home now—"

"M-Marcus…" Sitara's voice called out weakly from the van.

With the cat finally out of the bag and nothing else to hide, the man slowly reached for his back pocket.

"Don't," I demanded as I quickly drew my stun gun on him.

He hesitantly took a step back, and raised his hands above his head. "D-don't do anything drastic kid. I only get paid to transport, okay? No one needs to get hurt."

"Any sudden movements, and I'll shoot. Got it?" He replied with a stiff nod. I didn't want to risk lowering my gun and grabbing Sitara myself, considering this guy was most likely armed. I had the advantage here, and I intended on keeping it. "Sitara, you in there? Baby, come here. It's safe now."

It took a moment or so, but she eventually found her way out of the trunk. I let a sigh of relief. Thank the Lord she was okay.

Sitara staggered toward me, palm clenching her forehead, seemingly disorientated, and confused. There was a bloody gash on her arm. It was oozing, and looked pretty damn deep. She literally collapsed in my arms the moment she reached me. I had to hold her tightly against me to keep her from falling.

"Take me home," she murmured, her voice choked with tears.

"Your arm is bleeding," I retorted. "It looks deep. We gotta find someone to take a look at it."

"No, it's not bad. It's just a scratch."

"Nah, you need medical attention girl. How do you know it's not infected or—"

"Marcus, I'm begging you not to fight me on this. Please, will you just take me home?"

I gazed into her glassy, wet eyes. She was undoubtedly distraught, shaken up and a little woozy, considering her inability to stand. I couldn't tell if it was because of the blood loss, or due to the traumatizing experience she endured itself. Maybe a bit of both? There was also a possibly that her wound wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was. The parking lot was pretty fucking dark. I could take a much better look once we were in the safety of my car.

I reluctantly took my eyes off her for a second to glance at the kidnapper— only to realize he wasn't there anymore. Motherfucker must had slipped away while I was distracted with Sitara. The van was still here though. I made sure to memorize the license plate numbers before gently sweeping Sitara's slender frame into my arms. They might come in handy later.

The walk to my car was drearily silent, and the long drive back to San Francisco was borderline depressing. She kept to herself, staring blankly through the passenger window the whole time without muttering a single word. I didn't say anything either, because honestly, I wasn't able to find the right words. I had no idea how it felt to be kidnapped, I couldn't relate to how mortifying an experience like that could be. Regardless, I wanted to at least try to comfort her, but judging by her withdrawn nature, and defensive body language, she wasn't about to let that happen.

I wondered what she was thinking. There must had been a lot running through her mind. I've never seen her this quiet before. The poor thing had no idea this was all my fault. I put her in a compromising position by taking her to that damn restaurant in the first place. What was I thinking? Our date was going so well too. I just had to go and fuck everything up.

Things could always be worse though. She's alive and well at least, and the cut on her arm actually was just a scratch. A nasty, bloody one for sure, but not nearly as deep as I thought. It didn't need stitches, just some antiseptic and sterile dressing would be enough.

Sitara's apartment was a few blocks from the hackerspace, on the second floor of old, nine-story building. It had more than its fair share of vibrant, colorful pictures and tags graffitied onto the red brick exterior. Some of the pigments were so vivid and absolutely striking, they had to be Sitara's handiwork. Hopefully the city didn't remove them anytime soon, it gave the building's aged bricks a bit of a face lift, and some much needed character.

The building's elevator was broken so I had no choice but to carry her up two flights of concrete stairs. Not that I minded, she was pretty light anyhow. Would had been nice if the narrow stairwell wasn't occupied with people though. It was annoying trying to navigate around the various idle frames who were chatting and hanging about, carelessly taking up space. It was nothing out of the ordinary however— just the kind of shit you had to deal with living in the big city.

The gray second floor hallway was quiet and vacant thankfully. Her apartment entrance was the first metal door on the right.

"I can take it from here," Sitara stated as I set her down gently to her feet.

"You sure?" I asked. "I can help you clean and wrap that cut—"

"I said I can take it from here," she snapped, her voice echoing throughout the empty hall.

I responded with a small nod. There was no use arguing with her when she got like this. I couldn't blame her for being in a shitty mood, she had every right to be cranky after what she had been through. "Oh, this belongs to you…" I scoured through my hoodie pocket for her phone and handed it to her.

"Thanks," Sitara mumbled, turning away from me and unlocking her apartment door. "Night Marcus." She slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind her.

* * *

I didn't sleep that night. I immediately left Sitara's building and returned to the hackerspace. I spent hours upon hours brainstorming a means for tracking down those responsible for her abduction. I had a gut feeling that whatever was going on, it was much bigger than that one asshole who snatched her. He wasn't working alone. I knew there had to be others working behind the scenes and pulling strings.

I believed him when he admitted to only being responsible for transporting victims. Growing up in the hard streets of Oakland, I've crossed paths with killers a couple of times. From my experience, they all had a certain look in their eyes— cold, emotionless. Rarely did they ever show fear, even at gunpoint.

That dude was just a pawn on the chessboard. He wasn't a murderer, nor the mastermind behind the whole operation. The hard part was finding some credible evidence to prove it.

I mapped out every possible remote location in the Elmhurst district the kidnapper could had taken Sitara to; under the premise that those responsible for the large scale of mysterious disappearances, and the murder video were all connected. Serial killers, just like normal people, were creatures of habit. They preferred to abduct and kill their victims in an area they felt comfortable and familiar with.

Granted, over time they'd get brave and start venturing out of their comfort zone. Although, in this case, it was much too risky to transport their victims' long distances. ctOS had Elmhurst profiled as a high risk area, which made since, it was riddled with gang activity. So police were constantly patrolling the vicinity. Kidnapping people off the city streets without any witnesses had to be a bitch to pull off, even in the dead of night. And getting past the police patrols without drawing any attention had to be difficult too. Somehow, the motherfuckers managed to carry it out time and time again. They were good.

I figured, if I were a murderer and I intended on abducting people in the Elmhurst district to torture and kill, I'd need a very secluded location. Somewhere close to the general area, but far enough where I wouldn't have to worry about nosy civilians or police patrols. The walls would have to be soundproof too— most people had a tendency to scream pretty fucking loud when scared for their life.

By that logic, only six locations fit the bill. Damn, I really had my work cut out for me.

I did my homework on each spot— got ahold of their blueprints and memorized their vulnerabilities to the best of my ability. On top of that, I made sure to switch out my stun gun for a pistol, and spent some time manufacturing a new RC Jumper and quadcopter. I also needed to restock on explosive and electro-shock devices.

I've infiltrated a fuck-ton of structures before, from bureaus and businesses to crazy shit like underground bunkers. But potentially infiltrating the lair of a murderer? That wasn't some shit to take lightly. If my suspicions turned out to be true, I needed to be prepared for every contingency. If things went south, I wasn't gonna be able to charm my way out of it.

The hackerspace was quiet. Wrench was hard at work at his bench, tinkering with depleted electro-shock devices and scrapping them for parts. Josh was at his computer doing his own thing as usual. I took one last look at my phone before beginning to pack my messenger bag with my printed equipment and other various gadgets needed for the job.

It was three in the afternoon and I still hadn't heard a word from Sitara. I texted her a few times, and even called, but she had yet to respond. It was real weird not having her around. She was always here, or at least, more often than the rest of us were. The hackerspace just didn't feel the same without her. I missed her so damn much. I knew she needed space, but she didn't have to punish me and everyone else by dropping off the grid without warning. Was it too much trouble to text me back a few words, just to let me know she was alright?

I hadn't told Wrench or Josh anything about last night. The idea of telling them how badly I fucked up didn't seem too appealing honestly. Thankfully, neither of them asked about Sitara's whereabouts yet, but it was only a matter of time. Damn, I felt so shitty about the whole ordeal. I didn't even wanna think about it.

"I'll be back later guys," I announced, securing my messenger bag over my shoulder and heading for the stairs.

"Hold up a sec' M," Wrench turned away from his bench and trailed behind me. "Where are you going?"

"I'm following up on the missing person cases. There's some places I need to scope out."

He swerved in front of me the moment I reached the top of the steps, his narrow frame blocking the metal, reinforced exit. "Need an extra pair of eyes? Or someone to watch your back? Or maybe just some company on the road? Oh, you wouldn't happen to need any driving music, would you? I'm pretty good at beatboxing—"

"Nah man, I'm good." I punched the access key code into the door's metallic panel and slipped past him. "Thanks though."

He clenched my sleeve, holding me in place. "Dude, are you and I cool? You've been unnaturally quiet today. I mean, you literally spent all night and day to yourself— assembling new tech and gearing up for war. And now you're running your own ops without briefing or logistics? Why the secrecy? What's been going on dude? I thought we were a team."

"We are a team man. But I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous."

Explanation marks appeared on his mask. "Danger, you say? M, I live for danger. You have to take me with you so I can blow up some shit. Pretty please? I haven't been able to bask in the beauty of fiery smoke and debris since I made Blume's backup servers go kaboom! And that was like weeks ago. I need my fix dude."

"Wrench man, these people are coldblooded murderers, and way smarter than average thugs. They're organized and methodical. You need to take this seriously."

"I am. I know how dangerous these guys are. They make people disappear without a fucking trace dude. And we both watched the video, didn't we? I tried to convince you to let this go, but you're too damn stubborn to listen—"

"Hell nah I ain't letting this go!" I blurted out. "They took Sitara man!"

The LED lights of his mask went completely blank. "W-What'd you say?"

I rubbed the back of my neck anxiously, my stomach churning. "They uh… they took Sitara last night." I mumbled. "I got her back though so it's all good, I think."

"What do you mean? Is Sitara okay? Where is she?"

"Look, she was really distraught after I saved her man. She demanded that I take her home, so I did. But I haven't heard from her since."

"Fuck dude, you scared the shit out of me." He placed a hand over his heart and sighed heavily. "Okay, work with me here M. Let's do some backtracking. Tell me everything that happened last night, from the very beginning."

"Okay well—"

"Wait, as a matter of fact, you can fill me in on all of it while we're on the road to this secret place you so desperately need to scope out. Give me a sec' to grab my toys and I'll be all ready." He turned and scurried back down the steps toward his bench.

"Dude, I can do this on my own. It's all good, really."

"I have a feeling we're gonna need explosives," he muttered, completely ignoring me. "I have C-4 lying around here somewhere…"

I shook my head. Looks like he wasn't gonna take no for an answer. "Dude, I gotta ask… What the Hell is up with you and blowing shit up?"

Wrench reached under his bench and pulled out a duffle bag. It was crammed with spare batteries, screws, gears, and a shitload 3D printed weapons. "Well, it's really quite simple honestly," he said as he rummaged through the bag. "There's just something about destroying shit that makes me feel alive. It really gets my blood pumping dude."

"It's all good. I figured people called you an anarchist for a reason."

"Meh, society and its fucking labels. Always trying to put people in boxes. It's all bullshit." He shook his head. "People think they know me so well. They think I prefer chaos, and that I hate rules. To a certain extent, they're right. Tell me not to walk on grass— I'll throw down a God damn picnic with a smile. Oh, does that road have a speed limit? Must be time for a speed race. I can go on and on M, but long story short, people think rule breakers— anarchists to be specific, are threats to society. The term itself has so many negative connotations, and it fucking sucks that everyone is so quick to slap the label on me. I'm not some crazy, radical asshole who breaks laws just to break them, and wants the world to burn just for the fuck of it. I'd like to think I'm more complex than that. Better yet, _I am_ more complex than that."

"Oh yeah? Alright man, enlighten me then."

"Because the truth is, I fucking love rules. They serve as a guide as to what boundaries I can push next. There's real charm and allure to anarchy, besides the chaos and destruction part of course. It's a way of life where I can carve my own path, and determine my own rules and morals. I don't have to settle for the bullshit standards society pushes on me. It doesn't mean I'm incapable of compassion, collaboration, love, and all that mushy shit. All it means is our principles aren't the same unless I say so. I think you understand that M, which is why we get along so well. You let me walk my own way and never give me shit about it."

I smiled. "Of course dude. We're all a little rebellious at heart, even the people who are too brainwashed to know it. I actually feel bad for them. They're either too afraid to act on their desires and impulses, or they push them so far down trying to maintain their image of a perfect model citizen, that they lose sight of themselves."

"It's a sad, sad thing. Don't ever lose sight of yourself, M. If it wasn't for the inner rebel inside you, you wouldn't be part of DedSec. Heck, if it wasn't for the inner rebel in all of us, there would be no DedSec."

"Damn straight. It's pretty fucking ironic that people think you're such an anarchist though. I mean, sure, you tend to start trouble from time to time. But for a guy who society labels as such a threat, California would be in much shitter shape without you. You helped take down Blume, HAUM, and so many other corrupt ass tech giants—"

"Couldn't have done it without you though, and the others. There's nothing we can't do when we work together. So let's get Josh in on this too, and let's solve this motherfucking murder mystery as a team— as DedSec. Sitara isn't here right now to back me up on this, but I guarantee this is what she'd want. She wouldn't want you going off to do this on your own man."

I nodded. Deep down, I knew he was right. I didn't want anyone else on the team to get hurt, but we had dealt with plenty of bad situations before, and we've always bounced back. Why would now be any different? "Alright. I'll go fill Josh in on the plan while you're looking for that C-4. Seriously though dude, you're not gonna need it."

"Bet you ten bucks I will."

"Bet." I smirked. Typical Wrench.

Hopefully if all goes according to plan, we wouldn't need to resort to explosives or any artillery for that matter. We needed answers, or at least some kind of clue to solve this mystery. Chances are, we wouldn't find anything at all. I didn't have any real, solid leads to go on, just notions and ideas.

But it was worth a try, because this shit was personal now. Someone had to answer for the suffering Sitara had to go through last night. No one was gonna fuck with us and get away with it. Not on my watch.

* * *

 **Poor Sitara :( Leave a review, let me know what you think! I appreciate feedback!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sitara**

I watched the heavy rain pound against the window. The rapid downpour formed thick, watery streaks across the glass. A storm overwhelmed the city. Blackened clouds and dense fog masked the outside world in gray.

There was something comforting about the consistent pitter-patter of rain striking glass, and the occasional gregarious boom of thunder which accompanied it. I guess listening to nothing but the melancholy thoughts in my head was starting to get to me. I've been hiding away in my apartment for three days now. I couldn't find the energy or will to even get out of bed.

The same horrible memory kept replaying in my head. The date I went on with Marcus a few nights ago… everything was going so perfect until I stepped foot into that empty, dark restroom. The moment when that pile of human refuse smothered me with chloroform and tried to kidnap me— I couldn't get it out of my head.

I tried everything, from attempting to drown the painful memories away in alcohol, to warding them off with the comfort of sleep. But they'd always come back.

I recalled being pulled out of the restroom by a monster hiding his face with a mask, and dragged down a long hall by my arm. The chloroform had made me so tired, so woozy. I only remembered bits and pieces of the horrible ordeal.

I thought I could use my smarts and hack my way out of any tight situation, and if all else fails, I could always run. I was the fastest sprinter, and more acrobatic than anyone I knew. But I was wrong. There was nothing I could do. The plethora of skills I spent blood, sweat and tears developing and perfecting, meant nothing.

In truth, it was the memories that were the real monster, not the douchey kidnapper. I couldn't escape them or hide from them, at least not for very long. I certainly couldn't fight or run from them either. I was forced to endure the misery, and hope that the pain and trauma would ease with time. It felt like it was taking an eternity.

I hadn't spoken to anyone since I've been hiding away. Not Marcus, not Wrench or Josh, or any DedSec members for that matter. I hadn't checked on our followers, nor have I checked my blog. Then there was my bloodstained phone resting on my nightstand. God, I didn't even have the resolve to clean the darn thing off after all this time. It's been buzzing and ringing non-stop over these past few days.

I've swept all my responsibilities under the rug. It was pathetic. I used to be so much better than this. Regardless of how depressed and broken I felt, my brand still meant the world to me. I've gone through so much to bring DedSec into the spotlight. If I didn't get out of this damn bed anytime soon, I knew all my hard work would slip through my fingers. How would I live with myself if I let that happen?

I had to get back to the hackerspace. God knows what the boys had gotten themselves into without me. It was going to take every ounce of strength I had to climb out of bed. One step at a time though. My first plan of action was to check my phone. If I could pull that off without a hitch, then maybe there was hope after all.

I had five unread text messages and dozens of missed calls. The missed calls were all from Marcus, Wrench and Josh. Jeez, they had to be so worried. I disappeared on them without any explanation. It wasn't a good feeling. I scrolled through my five unread texts next. Three from Marcus, two from Wrench. I checked Marcus' messages first.

 **Hey girl. Just checking in. You doing alright? I know last night must of been difficult for you. You're probably going through a lot of shit right now, but can you hmu when you get a chance? Thanks.**

 **Sitara, where you at? Everyone's worried. Please get in contact with us soon.**

 **I miss you.**

Each message was sent a day after one another. I sighed heavily, quickly scanning through Wrench's texts next.

 **Tsk, tsk Sitara... never figured u 4 the flighty type. Hope ur little hiatus doesn't last 2 long cuz u r totally missing out on all the fun. Tracking down murderers is SO much more exciting than I thought it would be. Not 2 toot my own horn, but I'd make a great detective.**

 **Btw, me and ur boy toy, aka M, found the dick who tried to kidnap u. We strapped C-4 to a RC Jumper and chased him around his house with it. U should have saw the look on his face, the fucker was so scared. It was glorious Sitara. Simply glorious.**

Despite how crappy I was feeling, his messages made me cackle aloud. I can't believe they did that, it had to be Wrench's crazy idea. As dumb as the whole scenario sounded, it was actually kinda sweet.

The texts did well to distract me from my sorrow. Maybe I needed companionship to get me out of this funk. And truth be told, I missed Marcus. I wanted to let him in on how I was feeling. He's always been emotionally open and honest with me. It'd only be fair. I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about it, but he deserved someone who would try. We've always been there for one another when things got difficult. I didn't want that to change anytime soon.

I bet he was at the hackerspace, but I just wasn't ready to get out of bed yet. I decided to call him instead.

He answered after a few rings. "Hello?"

"Hey Marcus," I replied. "Are you busy?"

"Nah, just chillin' at the hackerspace. Is everything okay? How are you doing? Where have you been?"

"Y-yeah, about that…" I fumbled, unsure of what to say. "I um, need to see you. I know it's raining like cats and dogs right now so maybe you can stop by later?"

"I can stop by now. It's all good. Where are you? If you need me, I'm there."

"I'm home. Are you sure though? The storm looks pretty bad—"

"Be there soon." With that said, he hung up.

My stomach rumbled with nervousness. The hackerspace was nearby. He'd be here any minute. I reluctantly sat up, and by some miracle, I was able to stand shortly after. I managed to slowly drag myself into the bathroom to freshen up. It wasn't much of a walk thankfully— one of the added benefits of living in a studio apartment. All the basic necessities needed in a home were all in the same room, except for the bathroom of course. Granted, the space was tiny, but the rent was affordable. It even had a balcony. It was perfect for me.

My entire body was sore and my arm was still killing me. I probably didn't do the best job cleaning and bandaging it. I've never been good with that sort of thing. The sight of blood always made me queasy. I'd take another look at it eventually, I wasn't feeling up to it right now.

I changed into a pair of red plaid pajamas and a white t-shirt, and then crawled right back into bed. I yawned. Maybe I could fit in a fifteen-minute nap before he got here.

 ** _Knock. Knock._**

Or not. Apparently he was already here. I glanced through the peephole. It was undoubtedly Marcus. He had a dripping wet umbrella in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

I unlocked the door and allowed him inside. He beamed at the sight of me, and planted a small kiss on my cheek. I couldn't help but return a smile, my face heating up. Marcus really did make a good distraction from the memories. My brain would always get so fuzzy when he was around, and all I could think about was the here and now, and how I wished every moment of free time we had together would last forever.

I knew I missed him, but I didn't realize just how much until he stepped through the door. I wanted so badly to erase the distance between us. If only I could embrace him and show him how I felt, so I could get all of these intense feelings off my chest. But I was still an emotional wreck right now. I wasn't thinking straight. It was probably best to hold off for now.

"Hey girl, I got you Chinese," he passed me the brown bag. "Figured you might have been hungry."

"Thank you," I pecked his cheek in appreciation of his thoughtful gesture, and turned to set the food down on my nightstand. I climbed back into the safety of my bed, pulling my purple sheets up to my waist. "But I'm not hungry."

Marcus set his drenched umbrella aside, and began removing his damp clothes. He took off his dark blue DedSec hat and jacket, revealing his black sweater underneath. I noticed he didn't have his messenger bag with him. Maybe he left it at the hackerspace, his gear would had gotten soaked otherwise.

"When's the last time you ate?" He asked, kicking off his tan boots.

"Three days ago…" I let out a sigh before continuing. "At that restaurant."

Marcus hung his dripping wet attire on the coat rack nailed to the cream colored wall. "For real? Three days?" He sat beside me on the edge of the bed, his body angled toward me. He silently studied me for a moment, his rich brown gaze stricken with sadness. "Sitara, you don't look so good. You're pale." He touched a palm to my forehead. "You're real warm too. What's wrong? You gettin' sick?"

"I don't know. I've been feeling so crappy lately."

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

"Marcus, none of this is your fault, okay? There was no way of knowing what would happen."

"There's something I need to tell you—"

"If it's more bad news about what happened that night, I don't want to hear it. I've been dwelling over it for so long— reliving that same horrible situation in my head time and time again. I just can't take it anymore. I'm in desperate need of a distraction. So can you keep it to yourself for now? Please?"

"Yeah, I can do that." He muttered. "Thanks for getting in contact with me earlier, I was worried about you. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about you. You were so withdrawn and cold after I saved you, and then you disappeared. I had no idea where you and I stood. Shit, I thought you hated me."

His words were so sincere. My stomach tightened. He really had no idea how much I actually adored him. I must be doing a terrible job at showing it. I gazed into his brown eyes, and clasped his hand. "How on earth could you think that? I will never hate you Marcus. Like ever."

"I dunno." He shrugged his shoulders. "There's a thin line between love and hate you know?"

"True, but we've gone through so many pitfalls and hardships together, and none of them have ever broken us apart. They only made us stronger." I laid the palm of my hand over his heart. "No matter what happens, you'll always have a place in my heart. I hope I'll always have a spot reserved in yours too."

He flushed, a wide smile formed on his handsome face. His pearly white smile was so disarmingly warm and genuine, and so undeniably charming as always. My tummy was immediately overwhelmed with butterflies. I was absolutely head over heels for that dangerously attractive smile. There was no use in trying to hide it anymore.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I love your smile?" I asked.

"Yeah, you did. At Swelter Skelter, remember? I'll never forget it. The compliment kinda made my night. And I know what you're thinking— a suave dude like me should be used to flattery by now. I mean, I get complimented by people pretty often after all."

"Uh-huh," I shook my head. "Marcus, you are the worst at taking a compliment. You get all embarrassed and tongue-tied whenever I flatter you. It's the cutest thing."

"My point exactly. I only react like that with you. You're special to me girl, you know that right? I've never felt this way about anyone before." His calloused hand stroked my cheek tenderly. "I know these past few days have been fucking hard for you, but they haven't been particularly easy for me either. Nothing is the same without you. Not DedSec, not the hackerspace— shit, I'm not even the same without you. All these feelings I have for you… they're real. And it's scary, because I'm starting to realize just how much I need you, Sitara. I'm terrified of losing you."

His heartfelt confession made my nerve ends tingle. I captured his hand on my cheek and planted a small kiss on his palm. "I didn't know you were so clingy," I teased.

"I didn't know either, until recently. Is it too much?"

"Of course not. I like clingy. Seriously though Marcus, I like every single thing about you."

"Yeah, I like you too. I like you a whole lot." He glanced at the digital clock on my night stand. "So it's been one-hundred and eleven hours, twenty-four minutes and approximately seventeen seconds since we've last seen each other."

"Jeez, sounds like forever when you put it that way."

"Damn right it does. And with that in mind…" He opened his arms to me. "Bring yo' fine self over here girl, and give a brother some love."

I giggled, shaking my head. "I'd love to, but I'm way too comfy right now. You're gonna have to come to me handsome."

"Oh, don't mind if I do."

A glint of mischief sparkled in his eyes. He climbed on the bed on all fours, and slowly inched toward me. I reached out to him, my body desperate for his touch. He collapsed on top of me playfully, embracing me in a tight bear hug. God, he was so heavy, and the extra pressure on my wounded arm hurt like Hell.

"Marcus!" I whined. I pushed him off and claimed the dominant position, my thighs straddling him. "Holy crap, are you trying to kill me?"

"I hear being smothered to death with love is the best way to go," he joked. "Real talk though, did I hurt you? You seem sore baby."

"That's because I am, doofus. Everything hurts… especially my arm."

"Still? The scratch hasn't healed up at all?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I dunno, I haven't looked at it since I cleaned and dressed it that night. I probably did a terrible job too. My head wasn't in the right place."

"Mind if I take a look at it?"

"Please do."

Marcus sat up as I continued to straddle him. Our faces were so close. I could feel his warm breath on my lips. A nervous giggle escaped me, my face heating up. He flashed me a smile, and then focused on carefully removing the gauze pad on my forearm. He winced once he laid eyes on my uncovered wound. "Damn."

"What? How bad is it?"

"I think it's festering, girl. Are you sure you cleaned it?"

"Um, I think I did." I swallowed deeply. "Jesus, it's really bad isn't it? Do I need to go to the hospital? Is it badly infected?"

"Nah, it ain't that bad. Could be worse—"

"Liar."

I lowered my head to take a glance at it, but he captured my chin gently, forcing me to gaze at him. "Nuh-uh. It's best if you don't look for now. It's pretty nasty. I can help make it all better though. Where do you keep your first aid supplies?"

"I keep all that stuff in the bathroom, inside the medicine cabinet."

"Alright." He cupped my thighs and hoisted himself into a stance, lifting me up along with him. "Ready for an adventure my lady?"

I clung to him, my fingers smoothing over his neck. "Sure am, horsey—"

"Steed," Marcus corrected, as he carried me across my flat and through the narrow doorway of my tiny white, well-lit bathroom. He gently set me down on the sink's ceramic countertop and began rummaging through the mirrored medicine cabinet. He grabbed a box of sterile gauze pads paired with paper tape, and a tube of antibiotic ointment. "Cool, I think this is everything we need," he stated, setting the supplies aside.

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

"A little bit, yeah," he twisted the hot water knob and began washing his hands with soap. "It'll be worth it in the long run though. I know you don't wanna talk about that night but I gotta ask you something, it's important. You're in pretty bad shape, you've got a lot of bruises. Then there's that cut. How'd you get it in the first place? Did he pull a knife on you?"

"Um, no. I don't think so."

"A razor? Box cutter maybe?"

"Sorry, I don't remember much from that night, most of it is fuzzy." I anxiously awaited him to finish cleansing his hands. "You know what you're doing right?"

He grinned. "Don't worry girl, it ain't rocket science. I got you."

"Sorry. I've never dealt with a cut this large before. It's scary."

"I've dealt with much worse." He seized a gauze pad and doused it in soapy water. "Relax. This might sting a little. You ready?"

I nodded. He held the moist pad over my cut and squeezed, droplets of water sprinkling over it. I bit my lip. It burned, but the pain was tolerable at least.

"Not so bad right?" He lightly dabbed the wound, cleansing it thoroughly. "You know, when I was forced to do community service, I got to work with kids. I love em', but they have a real knack for doing stupid shit and hurting themselves. I had to patch them up on more than a few occasions."

"I remember Horatio mentioning you were falsely accused of some ridiculous high-tech robbery, purely based on your computer skills? He said there wasn't even any evidence to link you to the scene of the crime. Is that true?"

"Yeah. All because of the Home Domain Center and their fucked up, flawed system. I was lucky the judge sentenced me to community service, I don't even wanna think about the other possibilities."

"It was a shitty situation. Bright side is, you got the program shut down for good. Everyone has you— the one and only RetrO, Home Domain Awareness hacker to thank for it. You did a great thing Marcus."

"Damn right I did. Someone had to do it, and I'm glad it was me. Felt good exposing the HDC's flawed predictive software, as well as their deceptive bullshit and fearmongering." He dried my gash with tissues and coated it with thin layer of antibiotic ointment. Once he was done, he grabbed a new gauze pad and proceeded to dress the cut, attentively securing it with tape. "I went through a lot because of them. Couldn't find a job with criminal record, and my ethnicity only made matters worse."

"Racial discrimination is a horrible thing. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Don't be sorry, it ain't your fault. I'm still going through it though. HDC and Blume aside, racism has been around for a long fucking time. You don't need to analyze any of their predictive algorithms or fucked up profiling software to figure it out. It's clear as day. Sure, it's gotten better over the years but the roots run deep. Although, that's a whole different can of worms I rather not open right now, I'd be ranting for days."

"Yeah, we should probably save that discussion for later."

"For sure." He took a step back and smiled. "Alright, all done. What do you think? Did I patch you up good enough?"

I gazed at my arm. My cut was neatly covered and secured by tape, and the burning had eased greatly. "It's perfect," I answered. "Much better than the crap job I did. The pain is letting up too. Now if only the soreness in the rest of my body would follow suit…"

"You must have put up a Hell of a fight with that kidnapper, huh? I can relate, I feel like complete shit for a few days after a fight too. The aches are the worst once your adrenaline levels die down. But at least your arm is feeling better. You should keep an eye on it though, in case it gets any worse. It's best to change the dressing daily, for hygienic purposes. Think you can do that? It's really easy."

"I think I prefer you doing it for me, Doctor Holloway."

"Doctor Holloway? That's new. But it does give me some steamy roleplaying ideas."

"Roleplay?" I snorted, hopping off the sink and turning into the hall. "Really Marcus?"

"Hear me out though," he followed after me. "For example, I can be doctor, and you can play the patient in desperate need of a thorough examination. Hot right?"

"Not really."

"Okay, how about cop and robber?"

"No."

"Maid and master?"

"Nope."

"Orc and elf?"

I cackled, collapsing onto the clean purple sheets of my bed. "You can't be serious."

He laid beside me and smirked. "What? I have a big imagination."

"More like a crazy imagination, but I love it. Reminds me of Wrench. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss his bat-shit crazy temper tantrums and terrible jokes. I miss Josh too, he's such a sweetheart."

"They miss you too girl. When are you coming back to the hackerspace?"

I sighed. It was still raining and thundering like Hell. "Maybe tonight, when the heavy downpour clears up. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"I did, but I'd much rather spend time with you. Ain't too often we get to chill like this."

I edged closer to him. I missed his warmth. Receptive as always, he pulled me into his tender embrace. Our bodies pressed together, chest to chest and thighs snuggling. One hand caressed my back soothingly, while the other brushed through the long strands of my hair. I breathed in the tantalizing woodsy aroma rising from his collar, and sighed contently, resting my head on his broad shoulder. His touch felt so relaxing. I could linger in the safety of his embrace forever.

Whether it was massages, or randomly whisking me around from place to place in his arms, Marcus always went out of his way to make me feel adored and cherished. I think all the piggy-back rides were making me lazy. Ever since he joined DedSec, I've been getting comfortable letting him fetch me food and caffeine instead of doing it myself. He's been spoiling me for a long time now and I didn't even realize it.

"Were you serious about not eating for three days?" He asked.

"I haven't had much of an appetite," I confessed.

He didn't respond. Lips pressed into a fine line, he merely sighed.

"Marcus?" I gazed at him, concerned by his sudden silence. "Don't be upset. I'm fine, really. I'll eat later, promise. You don't have to worry."

"Nah, it ain't that."

"What is it then?"

"I wish there was more I could do to help you through this, girl. I know you're hurting."

"You go above and beyond for me, Marcus. What more could I ask for?"

"I dunno. I'm really happy we're still together, despite everything. I thought for sure I was going to lose you, like I lost Horatio…"

My stomach hardened. It was still hard to think about him without tearing up, let alone talk about him. His death was weighing heavily on all of us, but Marcus most of all. He never fully opened up to me about it. It was my fault, I always stopped him halfway out of fear that I couldn't handle it. It bothered me to see him upset. But maybe he needed to let it all out. Keeping it all pinned up inside wasn't easy to live with. I knew from personal experience.

"You ever feel like maybe if we worked faster, if we worked harder, we could've saved him?" He asked. "If I had arrived a minute earlier, I could have stopped the Tezcas and Horatio would be here right now—"

"Marcus, you can't think like that," I frowned. "We did our best."

"Baby, our best wasn't good enough. _My_ best wasn't good enough. That's what worries me. I don't want to fail you, Wrench or Josh the way I failed him. Losing him hurt like a motherfucker, and when you were taken, it was like I was reliving the nightmare all over again." He paused to sniff, his voice cracked with emotion. "He died in my arms for fuck's sake. All I could do was watch the life drain out of him. Fuck, I wish I coulda done more…"

Witnessing Marcus break down like this caused my eyes to water, and an overwhelming sadness weighed heavily on my heart. God I hated when he was upset. He was usually lively, playful and jubilant, so on the very rare occasions that he wasn't, it was always a shock to my system. I didn't know what to say or what to do. So I just held him and continued to listen.

"I'm glad I got you back," he mumbled. "I've been spending every moment of my time investigating these fucks that kidnapped you, but I'm worried digging too deep might backfire. You might get hurt even worse. I can't lose you again."

"You won't," I said, brushing the small, lone tear trailing down his face. "When that asshole took me, I remember being scared. I had this deep, profound feeling of hopelessness and dread in the pit of my stomach. But a part of me knew you weren't far behind— that you'd come for me in time. I never stopped believing in you, even after what happened to Horatio. You've done so many amazing things. I just… I feel so safe when you're close. The world could literally be falling apart around me and I'd still feel invincible with you near. Whatever dangers or pitfalls life throws at us in the future, I'm ready for it, so long as I have you by my side."

He chuckled shyly and flushed, his beautiful brown skin had a subtle rosiness to it. "Damn girl, I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"It's the truth, and there's a lot more where that came from," I smooched his sculpted jawline teasingly. "You wonderful, perfect man—"

"Stop," he wrinkled his nose in protest.

Marcus laid a palm on my neck, his thumb stroking my skin sensually. Smiling, he pecked the corner of my mouth. I gazed up at him, our faces drawing close. My mouth moistened. I could already taste the rich, caramel sweetness of his routine morning espresso lingering on his full lips.

The thought of us having our first kiss sent a pleasurable jolt of electricity up my spine. We've both have been so patient and considerate toward one another. I didn't want to rush things. I liked to take my relationships slow. I had to really get to know the person to the core, and trust them fully before jumping in. Thankfully, he was receptive of that. Sometimes he was too hesitant for even my taste, but it served as an adorable reminder of how badly he didn't want to screw things up between us.

To my surprise, he decided to take initiative this time. His lips met mine in a delicate kiss. The rhythm of my heartbeat pounding against my chest pulsated in my ears, loud enough to overwhelm the constant pitter-patter of the pouring rain outside. I felt so lightheaded, and my stomach wouldn't stop twisting in knots. I was a mess. But somehow, I was able to pull myself together and kiss him back, my fingers caressing his cheek.

I've waited so long for this moment. It was just as gentle and innocent as I imagined it would be. He abruptly broke away, and planted a big kiss on my cheek, hugging me tightly.

I winced. Normally, I could handle his energetic, frisky nature— play fighting with him was guaranteed one of my favorite pastimes. But my body was still in a fragile state, and in the process of healing. "Not so tight, big guy," I said. "I'm still sore you know."

"Shit, my bad." He placed his arms at his sides. "You're so good at hiding it, I keep forgetting. If I knew beforehand that you were in so much pain, I woulda' picked up some painkillers on the way here. Maybe you should get some rest? I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You're gonna need your energy to make it to the hackerspace tonight. Josh and Wrench will be really surprised, and excited to see you too. Best believe they're gonna bombard you with questions."

"Well in that case…" I wrapped my arms around his neck, and settled my head comfortably on his chest. "I guess I should get in as much sleep as I can," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

A drawn-out yawn escaped him. "No doubt, I could use a nap myself. Didn't know cuddling was so tiring. Or maybe it's because my sleep schedule is fucked. And when I do sleep, it's only for like two or three hours. I mean, who even has time for sleep anymore? By the way, Josh made these bad ass sunlight emulating visors. You should try them out girl, they'll keep you up for fucking ever—"

"Marcus," I grumbled, interrupting his rant. "Shut up and let me sleep."

"Right sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes." He slipped off his thick rimmed glasses, set them aside and then reached for his phone. "One more thing though. According to the weather reports, the storm is supposed to clear out around seven. I'm gonna set an alarm for eight, so we don't oversleep. That'll give us about three hours of shuteye."

"Thanks hun." I sighed complacently, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling slowly lulling me to sleep.

* * *

It wasn't long before I was woken up however. Marcus' phone buzzed and vibrated on the bed beside him. It went on and on and on.

 ** _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._**

God it was so annoying.

"Marcus," I whined. "Answer your freaking phone already, or put it on silent."

"I think that's the alarm," he muttered, his sleepy voice low and husky.

"No fucking way." I glanced at my digital clock. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was actually eight o'clock already. The soothing pitter-patter of rain against the window-pane was gone completely. "Jesus, it felt like I only closed my eyes for a minute."

"I know. There's only two occasions where time flies— when you're having fun, and when you're sleepin'."

I sighed. "Guess I should go shower and get dressed."

"Take your time," he dismissed the alarm, causing the God awful buzzing to stop. "I'll be here chillin'."

I reluctantly dragged my lazy self to the shower, and turned the hot water knob, steam filling my tiny bathroom. I carefully stripped down, gazing at the reflection of my sore body in the mirror. There were so many purplish-blue bruises scattered across my skin, all over my stomach, arms and neck. I grimaced. I had no idea it was this bad. Jeez, it was gross. The worst part was I couldn't remember enough about that night to pinpoint where each came from.

I unbraided my hair and withdrew the elastic hair tie, allowing my long locks to descend freely. I didn't want anyone to see my injuries if I could help it. With my hair flowing down my back and chest, it helped cover some of them. It was going to take some getting used to though. I always kept my hair neatly fixed in a ponytail, for practical reasons. I didn't need it getting in the way during ops or free runs.

My shower was longer than normal. I had to be extra mindful not to scrub my tender bruises. The steaming hot water flowing from the showerhead did wonders for my achy joints though. Once I was done, I leisurely dried myself off and returned to my bedroom, wrapped only in a towel.

Marcus was still lying on the bed, phone in his grasp and eyes glued to the screen. "Had a good shower?"

"Sure did," I replied, strolling over to my wardrobe. "Can I get a bit of privacy hun?"

"Huh?" His eyes shifted to me. He stared incredulously for a moment. "O-oh." He fumbled. Quickly, he pulled himself into a stance, his gaze dropping to the floor. "My bad, I didn't realize… I wasn't…"

"Relax. It's fine."

"So uh, I'll wait for you outside then." He glided past me, and reclaimed his boots and jacket.

"Don't forget your hat, silly."

"Right." He grabbed his hat hanging on the coat rack. "Er, thanks."

I giggled to myself as he departed. He was so adorable when embarrassed.

I changed into my usual duds— my blue denim shorts and oversized gray sweater, and met Marcus outside. He smiled at the sight of me. "I'm feeling the new hairstyle. Not wearing any makeup today?"

I shook my head. "I don't have the energy, nor am I in the mood to doll myself up tonight."

"It's all good, you don't need it. You're beautiful with or without it." He took my hand, our fingers intertwining.

"Thank you handsome," I smiled. "I'm ready to go when you are."

The usual short, uneventful walk to the hackerspace from my apartment was a lot more interesting this time around. For once, I wasn't making the trek alone. I had my favorite guy beside me every step of the way. We were like an actual couple— holding hands as we navigated through the damp city streets, laughing at the stupidest jokes and flirtatiously teasing one another at every turn.

It was almost as if my whole world didn't fall apart shortly ago, leaving me bedridden for days. But somehow, he was able to put the pieces of my shattered life back together. His vitality and enthusiasm was contagious. He was like a beacon of light warding away my inner darkness and gloom. It was much easier to cope with him around. I had to be wary not to get too dependent on his great vibes though. I had to learn how to deal with the pain on my own, so I could function and take care my responsibilities like a normal human being again.

We reached the heavily reinforced entrance of the hackerspace. I began punching in the access code. Halfway through, Marcus captured my hand, stopping me.

"Sitara, before we go any further," his soft brown eyes gazed into mine, "there's something I need to tell you."

I furrowed my brows. "Okay. What's up?"

"You asked me to keep it to myself earlier, but I don't think I can hold it in any longer. Withholding the truth is the same shit as lying, right?"

"Well yeah, to a certain extent. Whether you blatantly lie or simply withhold information for someone's own good, you're still making a conscious attempt to mask the truth. But in this case, you get a pass. You tried to tell me and I shut you down."

"I don't deserve a pass though."

I frowned. "Marcus, if it's weighing on you this much, just tell me already."

"It was my fault you got kidnapped."

"Marcus, please listen to me. What happened that night was not your fault."

"You don't understand," he argued. "Josh has been doing his homework on the missing person cases. He noticed a substantial rise in disappearances around the Elmhurst district— specifically within the proximity of that restaurant. I took you there to investigate. I knew there was a possibly things could go wrong, that'd it be dangerous for you but…"

He went on and on explaining himself, but his words went through one ear and out the other. A spark of adrenaline jolted through me, my muscles quivering with rage. How dare he put me in such a compromising position? He lied to me! He should had told me what the Hell I was walking into beforehand. Things would have ended differently. I would had been prepared. I wouldn't be suffering so damn much.

He was a fucking liar.

 ** _Slap!_**

I lashed out, the palm of my hand striking him across his face. "Don't follow me," I demanded, turning away from him and storming down the hall, away from the hackerspace.

* * *

 **Yikes, that slap had to hurt. Lol I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Marcus**

"Don't follow me," Sitara grumbled angrily. She pulled away from me and stomped off, leaving a trail of curses in her wake.

"Hold up," I shouted, following after her. "Don't go. Let's talk about this."

"There's nothing more to say Marcus. Leave me alone."

"Sitara, c'mon. Don't be like this."

"Screw you," she snapped.

"Will you just slow down for a second and hear me out?"

In the center of Gary's Games and Glory, she about-faced, glaring daggers into me. "Didn't you hear me the first time?" She shouted, capturing the attention of all the nearby shoppers. The space grew awkwardly silent as everyone gawked at us. "I said leave me alone, you lying sleazebag."

The heat of everyone's eyes on us was a bit unnerving, but I did my best to push aside my embarrassment and focused on the issue at hand. Sitara was all that mattered right now. I wasn't gonna let her walk away and ghost me again. I just got her back. If I convinced her to see things from my point of view, maybe she'd understand why I lied. Maybe she'd forgive me. It was worth a shot.

"I'm sorry," I pleaded. "I made a mistake, okay? I fucked up. I knew the restaurant was shady, but I didn't think you'd get snatched right under my nose. I'd never, ever intentionally put you in harm's way. You know how down I am for you girl."

"I thought I knew…" Voice choked with emotion, Sitara paused, her chin trembling. The fury smoldering in her beautiful, luminous eyes faded away, and was replaced with a sad, bleary stare. "I-I trusted you," she wept, tears rushing down her cheeks.

A sharp pang of guilt tore through me. It hurt to watch her cry; to know I was the source of her pain. I hugged her close as she struggled to stifle her sobs and remain strong. Hands curled into fists, she pounded against my chest frantically, desperately trying to free herself from my embrace. I refused to let go however, and continued to hold her. Eventually, she stopped fighting and grew still, her slender fingers clenching my jacket tightly. She buried her tear-streaked face in my chest, hiding her grief.

I shot a glare at a group of nosy spectators nearby. They reluctantly dispersed once I laid eyes on them. Thank the Lord they did, it was much easier to relax without everyone and their mother fucking watching.

I returned my attention to Sitara. "I'm sorry baby," I muttered, caressing her back soothingly. "I'm so sorry."

She sniffed and stepped away, wiping at her swollen, bloodshot eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "I'm tired of fighting Marcus," she said flatly, her expression blank. "I don't care anymore."

I furrowed my brows. "You don't care?"

"No, I don't. I'm over it, we'll talk about it later or something. Let's just go to the hackerspace." She brushed past me.

Dumbfounded, I watched her straggle away and disappear into store's back corridor. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or worried. There was no way she had gotten over everything already. She was still upset, she had to be. But she decided to hide it, for some reason. What's the point of that though? Keeping emotions bottled up inside was more trouble than it's worth.

Or maybe she was trying to avoid conflict, some people couldn't handle the heat. Nah, that couldn't be it. She usually tackled her problems head on. Although, this was different than all the other problems I've witnessed her solve. There were no instructions, manuals or logic approaches she could use to find a solution. She wasn't dealing with code or algorithms. It was a delicate situation, matters of the heart were messy and complicated.

I sighed and forged toward the hackerspace. I wish I knew what was going on in that big, gorgeous— yet frustratingly stubborn head of hers. Sitara was so hard to read sometimes. Well, women in general were hard to read. I couldn't keep a steady relationship to save my life, something always went wrong. I wasn't sure why my love life was so screwed. Did I have commitment problems? Or what if I was too clingy? Maybe I was too nice? Hmm…

Love and relationships were too complicated for me. I wanted to fall in love, get married and settle down one day, but at this rate, it wasn't gonna happen anytime soon. Which was cool with me, I was still young, there was no need to rush.

One night stands were more of my thing anyway. The walks of shame afterwards didn't even feel shameful anymore. Waking up in unfamiliar surroundings after getting blackout drunk, without any recollection of where my clothes may have gone, was a pretty normal occurrence for me. I was used to it.

Although, it wasn't something to be proud of. It was actually kinda sad. Damn, I needed to get my life together.

Wrench's elated, synthetic voice filled my ears the moment I entered the hackerspace. He had Sitara trapped in his sinewy arms, her feet lifted off the floor. "Sitara, you came back to me! I knew you couldn't stay away for long. God, I'm so happy, I could kiss you!"

She grinned, hugging him back. "Jeez, missed you too Wrench."

"Josh!" He called out. "Get over here dude! It's group hug time!"

Josh sprung from his computer seat and whisked over to them, embracing Sitara from behind. "I'm glad your back," he mumbled. "I like your hair."

"Thank you," she said as Wrench set her down. "I know I've been gone awhile, so can one of you get me up to speed on everything I missed?"

"Allow me," Wrench said. "So, after that night when you were, you know…" He paused and glanced at me.

"Kidnapped," Josh finished his sentence. "You were kidnapped while on a date. Pretty bad timing."

"Is there ever a good time to be kidnapped?" Wrench asked.

"No, but if I could choose a preferable time and place to be abducted, it wouldn't be during a date. Too embarrassing. If I suddenly disappeared, she'd think I stood her up. It'd ruin things."

Two exclamation points appeared on Wrench's mask. "A family gathering!" He exclaimed. "I would so not mind getting kidnapped from one of those. I'd be begging the kidnappers to take me from that fresh slice of Hell, you guys have no idea how lame my family is—"

I cleared my throat loudly. Everyone knew Josh and Wrench were insensitive at times, but this was bordering on malicious. They haven't realized how badly the experience traumatized her yet. "I'm gonna need y'all to tone the insensitivity down just a little bit alright? This shit is serious."

"Sorry," Josh and Wrench said in unison.

"So Marcus filled you guys in on everything that happened that night?" Arms folded over her chest, she glared at me. "Did you just tell them or does all of DedSec know too?"

"Just them," I muttered.

The space became uncomfortably silent. I retreated to the couch, crumpling into the padded cushions. My cheeks burned. Was I not supposed to tell them? Josh and Wrench were our two closest friends; they were like family. She never told me to keep it a secret from them. I wasn't a mind reader, how the fuck was I supposed to know?

"Uh so yeah," Wrench muttered, his gaze on Sitara. "As I was saying before. While you were on hiatus, Marcus and I scouted six possible spots these kidnapping fucks could have set up shop at. All of them were a total bust. No kidnappers, no suspicious evidence or leads. We planted hidden cameras at each location just in case though."

"I've been monitoring their live feed ever since," Josh added. "There's one problem though."

"What's the problem?" Sitara asked.

"One of the surveillance feeds went haywire. It's all static."

"What?" Wrench asked. "Which camera went down?"

"The one you guys planted inside the creepy abandoned house near Pioneer cemetery," Josh said.

"Say what now?" Sitara blinked.

"You heard right Sitara," Wrench said. "Marcus thought it was a good idea to go on a perilous adventure into this spooky abandoned house on a hill, which happened to be right next to a cemetery."

"You've got to be joking," she replied.

Wrench shook his head. "I'm serious. It was the creepiest house I've ever been to. Too bad it didn't have ghosts. That woulda' been awesome."

"What makes you think they're hiding out there Marcus?" Sitara asked.

"Ain't too many places in Elmhurst secluded enough for a psycho to go torture and murder crazy on someone without anybody knowing," I said. "Most people tend to stay away from cemeteries, especially at night. It was worth investigating, if anything."

"As ridiculously cliché as it would be for murders to be hiding out near a graveyard, I think Marcus is onto something." Josh said. "Losing the surveillance feed was no coincidence. I think someone found the camera and smashed it."

"I dunno dude," Wrench said. "The cameras are like pea-sized, there's no way someone coulda stumbled upon it, unless they were looking for it."

Josh frowned. "Maybe they're onto us. Someone had to tamper with it."

"When exactly did you lose the live feed?" I asked.

"Approximately fifteen minutes ago, shortly before you and Sitara arrived."

"Alright," I stood. "Chances are, whoever fucked with the camera might still inside, or lurking nearby. I'll check it out."

"Oh, take me!" Wrench exclaimed. "I would love to take another trip to the haunted house."

"Cool, let's roll." I retrieved my gear and headed up the stairs with Wrench at my heels.

"Wait up guys," Sitara called, following behind us. "I'm coming with."

I turned to face her. "Nuh-uh girl, stay here."

She furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

"It's too dangerous."

She stepped up to me, and stared directly into my eyes. There was a gleam of determination in her flinty glare. "I don't care how dangerous it'll be, I wanna help take these assholes down," she grumbled angrily. "It's personal now."

"Fuck yeah it's personal, but Wrench and I can handle it from here. You need to take it easy and relax. You're in no condition for fieldwork."

"And who's fault is that?"

I frowned. "Please, just stay here alright? I refuse to put you at risk again—"

"Whatever," she swatted my hand away and stormed off. "I'm not a fucking child Marcus," she muttered between clenched teeth. "This is such bullshit…"

Sighing, I turned away and continued for the exit. A boiling rage began to build in the pit of my stomach, begging to be released. But I choked it down, teeth clenched from my strenuous effort to remain silent. I was the bad guy for putting her at risk, which made sense, but how could she perceive me as bad guy for trying to protect her too? Now that's bullshit. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. I just couldn't get a break tonight.

"Women, right?" Wrench asked, as we emerged from Gary's Games & Glory storefront entrance and into the cool night air.

"I'm parked across the street," I mumbled, beckoning him to follow me. We ventured to my car with haste. I peeled off onto the road, Wrench in the passenger seat and me at the wheel.

"Do you think Josh is right? That someone had the balls to enter that super creepy abandoned house, only to conveniently stumble upon our hidden camera and smash it?"

"I have a feeling that abandoned house ain't as abandoned as we thought."

"Maybe they are on to us. What if they knew we were on their trail all along? What if they have spies? What if they're watching us as we speak dude?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I was curious about what happened to our surveillance feed, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Sitara. I was worried about her. If only I could go back in time to our date, I'd do so many things differently. We would had avoided the restaurant and everything would have turned out fine, she would have never been kidnapped in the first place. I'd be down to just chill in the park like she wanted to. I should have listened to her.

"You're awfully quiet dude," Wrench said.

"My bad," I replied. "I got a lot on my mind."

"I noticed. You've been in a shitty mood lately. Mind telling me who pissed in your cornflakes, M?"

"Don't sweat it man. I'll be alright."

"It's Sitara, isn't it?"

I sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"It's totally obvious, no offense. There's some serious tension between you two. Give me the details, M. I may be able to help you through your lover's quarrel if you let me."

"I appreciate the concern, but I don't think there's anything you can do. She's going through a lot right now."

"Of course she is. All jokes aside, getting kidnapped must suck. I don't blame her for being cranky, but she seemed really pissed at you. Maybe you should have let her tag along with us. Telling her what to do, it never sits well with her. When she sets her mind on something, it's best to stay out of her way."

"I know, but she's not in the right mental space to be running ops right now. And her body is in rough shape, she needs time to heal. It's for the best."

"I guess. Well, even though she's all cranky and snappy, I'm glad she's back. I never thought I'd say this, but I hope things between you lovebirds go back to normal soon. The constant flirting and teasing is gross and annoying most of the time, but I'd choose that over you two being angry and depressed all the damn time."

"No doubt man."

"Now I'm no expert on this type of thing, but wanna know what I think the core issue is?"

I grinned. "Sure, please enlighten me."

"I think all these bad vibes between you and Sitara is just built up sexual tension reaching its breaking point. You guys have liked each other for the longest, yet you've never sealed the deal."

"For real? You think sex will fix all our problems?" I raised my brows. "You are trippin'."

"Dude, good sex goes a long way. Well, it can go a long way, assuming you are good in bed. I wouldn't know." He leaned in close, his mask blinking with question marks. "Are you good in bed? You can tell me, I won't judge… too much. Just a little."

"Nah, I ain't answering that. The premise of your argument is so fucking flawed; I won't even entertain it. Sex doesn't magically make your problems go away."

"It certainly helps you feel better, there's no debating that M."

"Of course. Sex is like a drug, Wrench. Both can be used as a fleeting escape from stress and the difficulties of life. The problem is, the high only lasts for so long. For example, you get laid, craving for that rush of pleasure and much needed distraction from your dilemmas. You finally reach your climax, the dopamine levels in your brain spike, and everything feels amazing, right? All your problems just melt away."

"Right."

"Except the afterglow is only temporary. You eventually come back to reality and realize every single issue you had beforehand is still there. So, what's the point?"

"The point is, it feels good— not only for you, but for your lady too. Haven't you heard of makeup sex? It's a real thing."

I shook my head. "Communication is how problems in relationships get solved, not makeup sex. Good sexual compatibility and performance will only keep a relationship afloat for so long—"

"Did you even kiss her yet?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"M, c'mon, you gotta tell me," he pleaded, clenching my jacket sleeve. "I need all the juicy details."

"And why do you care? I thought our flirting and teasing was gross and annoying."

"I take it back, okay? You and Sitara's love affair is the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed. The lustful coy glances, the innocent touches, the witty remarks— it's all truly a delight to the senses. Not annoying or gross in the slightest, promise."

"Mhmm. I ain't convinced."

"You're killing me, M. I thought we were best friends!"

"We are best friends man. But I don't kiss and tell."

"Best friends don't keep secrets from one another."

"Don't even go there. You know everything about my epic failure of a love life, but I don't know shit about yours."

"That's because I don't have one."

"Is that right?" I raised my chin and sniffed, taking in a whiff of air. "I dunno man, it smells like a huge load of bullshit up in here."

"Dude, have you seen my mask? It's like natural chick repellent."

"That ain't necessarily true. What about the waitress from 10 Donuts?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't change the subject, my friend. This is about you and Sitara, not me."

"Let's save this discussion for later, alright? We're almost there."

We were nearing the cemetery now. I pulled off the main street and onto a bumpy dirt road. The path was rather dark without the aid of the city's street lights. Gravel cracked beneath my car's tires as we coasted along the empty trail. I remembered there was a long, stone driveway that carved a path up a grassy hill to the abandoned house, which was just before the cemetery's wrought iron fence. If there was someone inside, we didn't want to brazenly roll up to their door and alert them of our presence. So we parked the car on the side of the road and ventured the rest of the way on foot.

Wrench and I carefully scaled the rear end of the green, verdant hill. The old, decaying house stood at the top on it's lonesome, surrounded by a field of tall, untamed grass, seeded with wildflowers. It was a bitch to navigate through. The structure's wooden, rotted exterior was heavily obscured by the night's shadows. The windows were cracked and layered with grime, making them nearly impossible to see through from a distance. A strong, cold wind whipped against our skin as we struggled to reach our destination. Wrench skipped behind me, taking cover from the harsh breeze.

"When the heck did it get so windy?" He asked. "The weather has been so bipolar lately—"

A raw cry of agony pierced through the wild terrain, echoing into the chilly night air. I froze, my blood ran cold. It was a feminine scream, yet it was hard to tell whether it came from inside the house or somewhere nearby.

A creaking noise followed the scream. The shoddy cellar door behind the house slowly began to open. Limbs locked in place and pulse quickening, I anxiously waited to witness the figure emerging from the cellar.

A wiry hand clenched my wrist and tugged me down onto the ground, within the shelter of the tall grass.

"Don't move," Wrench whispered, lying prone on his stomach beside me.

It was impossible to see a thing due to the thick greenness blocking my sight. However, I could just barely make out the sound of muffled footsteps in the grass. They were distant, and seemed to be travelling farther and farther away with each stride. It wasn't long before the noise of hushed steps waned completely.

"Think we're in the clear?" Wrench asked quietly.

"I think so," I slowly rose into a stance, scanning our surroundings. Thankfully, the coast was clear. "Nice save man. I froze up there for a sec'."

"No problem dude, it happens." He scrambled to his feet. "I'm surprised hiding in the grass worked. We got lucky he didn't see us."

"It was a he? What did he look like?"

"It was some big dude wearing an apron, kinda like the murderer from the video Josh found." Wrench's mask flashed with two large exclamation points. "Dude, that guy could be the murderer!"

I shivered. "For real? Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't joke about this."

"H-he didn't have a saw too, did he?"

"I don't think so. I saw him go inside the house, but the screaming came from the cellar. You should check it out. I'll scout the house—"

"Are you crazy? Haven't you seen the horror movies? You are never, ever supposed to split up. We have a higher chance of surviving this if we stick together."

"Valid point. I really hope this doesn't go like a horror movie script though, for your sake M."

"I know," I frowned. "The black person always dies first."

"Fuck that dude. We're rewriting the script today. Let's check out the cellar together, and then we take it from there?"

"Sounds good."

"Awesome. I'll lead the way."

We cautiously proceeded to the cellar. The sturdy double doors were secured with a bulky padlock.

"I don't recall the cellar being locked last time we were here," Wrench said.

I grimaced. "Who the fuck uses padlocks anymore?"

"You can't install electronic locks without power dude." Wrench dug into his back pocket and retrieved two bobby pins. "Luckily for you, I came prepared. Watch and learn, M."

"Do your thing man." I stepped aside.

He crouched before the door and began fumbling with the lock. I wanted to watch him work his magic, but it was difficult to focus. I kept looking over my shoulder, my body flinched at every subtle noise. I couldn't shake this feeling that someone was watching us.

"Looks like ctOS hasn't sunk its teeth into this place yet," Wrench said. "This is probably the only property in San Francisco that's truly off the radar. It's a miracle, I thought ctOS had set up shop everywhere."

I gazed up at house's grime caked windows. I was dying to know what's inside, but my instincts were begging me to get the fuck out of here. It would have been easy to turn around and leave, but I didn't come this far to turn back now. I had to see this through.

"Surprised they haven't demolished this place yet," Wrench continued. "Who knows what kind of evil stuff ctOS could cook up with all this open land at their disposal."

Another round of frigid wind overwhelmed the hill, lashing against my skin. "Can you go any faster?" I asked, teeth chattering. "I feel so exposed out here."

"I'm going as fast as I can. I don't wanna be out in the open when the crazy saw murderer comes back around."

The memory of that poor guy getting his dome sliced in two flashed through my mind. "I-I'm too young to die man," I stammered. "I got so much shit left to do on my bucket list—"

"Calm your man-tits, M. You're making me nervous. If there's any bad guys around, we'll hear them coming."

"How the fuck are you so relaxed right now?"

"Deep breaths, and pleasant thoughts dude. You gotta find your happy place. When I'm feeling anxious, I think about meat puppets, explosions and mosh pits. You should try it."

"My happy place is at the hackerspace, where it's safe."

It seemed like forever before he finally popped the lock open. "Voila!" Quietly, he pulled the door open, revealing a path of concrete stairs descending into the darkness underground. The murmur of soft cries and whimpers rose from dense darkness within. "There's someone in there," Wrench mumbled.

My muscles tensed. I hated the idea of going down there, it was pitch fucking black. But I didn't have much of a choice. If someone was suffering, we had to do something to help. I grabbed my phone and swiped on the flashlight, shining a beam into the cellar's depths. "Keep close," I said, warily pressing on into the darkness.

The air within was cold, musty and reeked of mold. The weathered brick walls were covered with cobwebs and dust. Small insects skittered across the dirty cement floor, taking shelter from my light. There was an army of ants swarming an exposed airflow pipe overhead. They must have been after something in there. Food most likely. Ants were known to feed on corpses, maybe a critter got stuck in the pipe and died—

 ** _Slam!_**

The cellar's hefty double doors had slammed shut the moment we reached the bottom of the stairs, completely blocking out the soft rays of moonlight above. I cringed, my heartbeat racing. Wrench jumped and clenched my shoulders tightly.

"Sweet baby Jesus," Wrench stammered. "How the fuck… please tell me those doors closed on their own, M."

"I-I don't know," I fumbled.

Wrench sped up the stairs and attempted to push the doors open. However, they didn't budge. "Fuck!" He shouted, repeatedly shoving his shoulder against it, desperately trying to force his way out. "Someone locked us in here!"

"Aw shit," I grimaced. This just keeps getting better and better. "Wrench! That door ain't gonna budge man."

"Fucking fuck, shit, fuck…" Consumed by rage, he ignored me, continuously spewing random swears as he shouldered the door again and again.

I scrubbed a shaky hand through my hair. My first thought was to contact Josh and Sitara, but my phone couldn't pick up a signal down here. Shit, we had to find a way out of here. But I couldn't think straight with all the God damn shouting. "Wrench, will you calm that shit down? I can't fucking think—"

"H-help…" A weak voice stole my attention. My eyes darted in the direction of the whimpering. There was a woman in business attire restrained to a splintery chair in the corner of the dark space, rope tied around her narrow ankles and wrists. Her frame was shrouded by shadows. I focused my phone's flashlight on her, being mindful to avoid shining the beam in her face and blinding her. Her dark pencil skirt and blouse was torn and spotted with dirt. There were dozens of small cuts and lacerations carved into her pale skin.

"Good Lord," I muttered under my breath. I hurried to the woman's aid. "Don't worry, you're gonna be okay," I knelt before her and began untying the rope around her arms.

A drop of blood trickled down onto my hand. Curious of where the blood was coming from, I paused and peered at the woman.

There was a hollow, gaping hole where her right eye used to be. Blood oozed profusely from her eye socket, trailing along her high cheekbone and down her neck. I recoiled away from her, a shriek of terror escaping my lips. Dazed, and rendered speechless from the gore, my phone slipped out of my hand and tumbled onto the floor. Without any light to repel the darkness, the space was overwhelmed by blackness.

I crouched onto all flours and frantically felt around the pavement for my phone. During my hectic search, I ended up bumping my head against a solid surface. The surface became unstable due to the force of the bump, and various items came crashing down around me. Luckily, nothing fell on me, and I recovered my phone after a few moments longer of searching.

I rose into a stance, flashing my light over the fallen objects. Shards of broken glass and clear liquid laid at my feet. Within the cluster of sharp fragments were circular shaped, white gooey things… I couldn't tell what they were at first, until I leaned in for a closer look.

A bunch of detached eyeballs— some blue, some brown, a couple were green. "Oh fuck," I groaned, my stomach churning. I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to suppress the urge to vomit. They were torturing people and collecting their eyes as trophies. The same was gonna happen to Wrench and I if we didn't get the Hell out of here. Please, Lord have mercy. What did a brother do to deserve some shit like this?

"Marcus," Wrench appeared beside me. "I can't get the fucking door open. Did you find another way out?"

"We're gonna die," I mumbled, holding my nauseous stomach.

"Don't talk like that M—"

"T-there's a lady up in here missing an eyeball man."

"What?"

"I said, there's a lady up in here who ain't got no fucking eyeball. She's still alive and sitting over there, chillin' like it's all good— like her face doesn't have a giant, gaping hole in it." My breathing began to quicken as I strained to keep what little composure I had left intact. "This is some sick shit man…"

His hands smoothed over my quaking shoulders. "Deep breaths M," he instructed softly. "Find your happy place, alright? Think about the hackerspace. Oh, better yet, think about Sitara. She might be pissed at you for now, but you need to stay strong so you can make it back to her man. She needs you dude, more than she realizes. And as of right now, I need you too. You're a master strategist Marcus, your plans are always flawless. But you gotta pull yourself together first, so you can think straight. Then we can find a way out of this shitty situation as a team."

I nodded, swallowing deeply. He was right. If I didn't get a grip soon, we were fucked.

The cellar door began to shake. Someone was on the other side. There was a clicking noise, it sounded like the person was working on releasing the lock. I drew my pistol.

"Don't hesitate to shoot M," Wrench whispered. "It's either him or us."

* * *

 **Uh-oh, things are getting pretty intense, huh? Leave a comment, let me know what ya think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sitara**

I paced about the hackerspace, my sight glued to my phone. I tried to contact Marcus and Wrench time and time again, but all my calls went straight to voicemail. I couldn't get in touch with them through the DedSec app either. What the Hell happened? They should have been back by now.

"I'm gonna kill them for making me worry like this," I said, my eyes darting to Josh. "This is so unlike them."

Josh withdrew from his computer desk and spun around in his seat to face me. "Wrench and Marcus never dropped off the radar like this before. Something is wrong, very, very wrong—"

"So what are we going to do? We can't just sit here Josh!"

Brows wrinkled, he folded his hands across his lap and frowned. "I've been researching the house they went to, by the cemetery… people believe it's haunted. It's been around since the early 1900s, and there was only one family who lived there since it was built. All six of them, including two children, were brutally murdered by an unknown assailant a hatchet shortly after they moved in. To this day, the mass murder remains unsolved."

"Jeez," I mumbled. "That's horrible."

"The property has been neglected ever since. People have reported sightings of apparitions and the cries of frightened children coming from within the home. It's long overdue for demolition, the house has been inspected, all the necessary permits have been acquired, it's utilities have been terminated too. I don't know what's the hold up, considering whatever goes on inside is completely invisible to ctOS without utilities."

"And without ctOS watching, all kinds of awful things could be happening in there without anyone knowing."

"Perfect place to conduct a murder. It could be the killer's hideout for all we know. He's probably kidnapped and killed dozens of people there already. He knows we're onto him. Smashing our hidden camera was all part of his plan to capture our attention so he could lure us into his killing fields. What if there's more than one murderer? He can't be working alone." He closed his overworked, bloodshot eyes and began to rock in his frantically. "I knew it. I knew this was going to happen. Marcus and Wrench walked right into a trap. They're going to die Sitara."

My chest tightened. Jesus, he was having another panic attack. I wanted to curl into a ball and break down myself, these past few days have been so emotionally taxing. The thought of potentially losing Marcus and Wrench was too much to bear. But I had to stay strong for Josh. He needed me.

I rushed to him and cupped his soft cheeks gently. "Oh God Josh, don't talk like that…" I paused to blink away my tears. My throat was scratchy and my voice wouldn't stop shaking. It was so hard to keep myself together. "Do you think we should call the police?"

"No, that's a terrible idea. If the abandoned house is actually what we think it is, and the police arrive and find Marcus and Wrench there…" He shook his head. "It would look really bad for them. They'd have a lot of explaining to do."

"Damn it!" I threw my hands above my head in frustration. "I told Marcus to take me with him. Whatever crazy situation he's gotten himself into, I would had been there to help him out of it if he just listened to me for once. Why does he never listen to me?"

"Sitara, what are we going to do?"

I sighed. I needed to calm down and figure out what to do from here. Throwing a fit wasn't helping. I had to go out there and get our friends back, we had no other options. "Don't worry, they're going to be okay, Josh. Do you understand me? Marcus and Wrench will be fine."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm going to drag their asses back here myself, and no psychotic, murdering asshole is gonna stop me."

He stared at me, eyes widening. "H-how?"

"Don't worry about the how Josh. I can do this."

He shook his head. "N-no, you can't. That's crazy, Sitara, it's literally suicide—"

"I'm not going to sit here while our friends get butchered. I'm sorry hun, but I have to go. Will you stay here until I get back?"

Josh turned away, his tired eyes returning to his computer screen. "Be careful Sitara. Keep in touch."

I left the hackerspace in a flash, running as quickly as my legs would carry me. I hopped into my car parked along the curb of Gary's and flattened the gas pedal, leaving a trail of dust in my wake. We couldn't afford to lose Marcus and Wrench. They were the most exceptional members of DedSec. I had to get them back.

The mere thought of losing Marcus alone caused a pang of discomfort in my chest. What in the world would I do without him? Like all people, he had his faults, and we bickered from time to time, but he still meant the world to me. I was pissed that he lied, but my anger didn't blind me from the truth. My feelings for him ran deep.

Marcus has made such a significant impact on my life. Laying eyes on his sweet, charming smile was the highlight of day. He was always there for me, through thick and thin. He was my light, my rock, and my best friend. I've never adored another human being so much in my entire life. I'll be damned if I let someone take him away from me without a fight.

It took a good thirty minutes or so to make it to the Elmhurst district. Not much traffic tonight, thank God. I made a sharp right onto the bumpy dirt path leading to the cemetery. I spotted Marcus' car parked off the side of the road, hidden under the shade of trees. I glided into a stop behind it, and exited my car, leaving the engine purring.

The surrounding woods were silent, and laced in shadows. It was hard to believe such a dark, deserted stretch of land resided in the city. The blackness seemed to be pressing in from all sides, urging me to turn back. I felt claustrophobic, although I knew the unbridled terrain stretched unbroken for miles.

There was a somber, foreboding ambiance about this place that was really screwing with my nerves, but there was no freaking way I was turning back now. I could see the abandoned house in the distance, perched atop a hill carpeted with tall, lush green grass. It wasn't far. I could make it.

It was difficult not to imagine all the potential threats lurking within the shadows, but the likelihood of there actually being any were slim. There may be wildlife hiding in the brush, like squirrels and such, but they were harmless. All in all, I was still in the city. It was the people I had to worry about, not animals.

Darkness was just an illusion feeding on my fear of uncertainty. I had to set my irrational worries aside and just focus the goal— reaching the house in one peace.

Little did I know, navigating along the shadowy, bleak dirt path was only half the battle. Ascending the hill was a whole new challenge. It was treacherously steep, and the soil was moist and slippery due to the heavy rain earlier today. The violent gusts of wind sweeping through the land only made matters worse. Despite the risks, I began to scale it anyway. There were no other alternatives. Each stride I made up the hill was slow and cautious. Slipping and falling on my ass was so not on my agenda.

It was a relief to reach the peak unharmed. The house was only a short distance away now. Its weary walls seemed to wobble under the strong breeze, as if the powerful gusts were going to sweep it away into the twilight sky at any moment. The weathered residence was so broken down and badly maintained, it was clear that no one had called such a place their home in a very long time.

I advanced through the hill's waist high blanket of damp, vibrant grass, and skulked up the creaking porch steps of the house. I tried to enter through the front door, but it was locked tightly from other side. I could possibly kick it down; the door hinges appeared loose, and severely rusted.

But it was a gamble, one that wasn't in my favor either. Chances are, the door would also be barricaded from the other side. The murderer would be stupid not to, this old door wasn't nearly enough to keep intruders out. On the slight chance that it wasn't barricaded, I doubt one kick would be enough to get the job done. I wasn't that strong. So, if I went on a crazy kicking spree trying to break the door off the hinges, I'd make a shitload of noise, and it'd take forever.

There had to be another way.

Maybe I could break in through the windows. The bottom floor windows were boarded up tight, but the second story ones looked vulnerable. I'd need something to break the glass with though. A rock should suffice. There were plenty bulging out of the moist ground.

I grabbed a hefty stone lying in the dirt. It'd be easy to break the glass with this, but the sound of it shattering would cause quite a fuss. I didn't have time to find a workaround however. Marcus and Wrench could be in danger. I had to get in there by any means necessary.

I hurled the heavy rock at one of the windows with all the strength I could muster.

 ** _Crash!_**

It went straight through the window, breaking the glass into countless small, jagged pieces. The next plan of action was finding a way up there. I leaped onto splintery porch railing and mounted its roof. I shimmied along the side of the house's chipped, rotting exterior swiftly, and dipped through the exposed window with ease.

I found myself within a dark, empty room. A severe stench of mildew overwhelmed my nostrils. It was difficult to breathe with the air so stale, and thick with dust. Clumps of rat feces and dust tumbled about the weathered floorboards aimlessly. The sound of very light footsteps and hushed squeaking could be heard from within the walls. It must be rodents, this place had to be crawling with them, their droppings coating the floor being a telltale sign. I bet there were plenty of creepy crawlers skittering about the darkness too, waiting to suddenly pop out and scare the living shit out of me. Spiders made my flesh crawl, I hated them.

But they were the least of my worries, unfortunately. If Josh was right about the murderer's intentions to lure us here by destroying our hidden camera, then I'm right where he wanted me to be. I was in his domain now. For all I knew, he could be stalking nearby like a tiger watching his prey, preparing to nab me, or worse…

I shook my head, willing the dreadful thoughts away. Dwelling on worst case scenarios wasn't helping anything. I had to find Marcus and Wrench.

It was so quiet though, I was beginning to doubt anyone was here at all. There was only one way to know for sure though. I was determined to scout this place from top to bottom before making any assumptions.

I carefully proceeded along the disgusting, feces covered floor to the room's exit. I seized the knob and attempted to open the door. However, regardless of how hard I tried, the handle wouldn't turn. The knob was either broken or jammed on something. Crap, just my luck. How the heck am I gonna get this open? Jeez, electronic doors are so much easier to deal with—

 ** _Wham!_**

The jammed door quaked violently under the impact of a powerful, unknown force from the other side, the sudden disturbance causing my heartbeat to rapidly speed up and trash against my chest. I shuddered and skipped away, wheezing breaths escaped my lips. Someone, or something, continuously pounded and clobbered the entrance, raving and rampaging like a bull, furiously trying to break the door down.

It was the murderer, it had to be!

I stared dumbfounded, eyes watering, mind racing through the possibilities of what the unknown, destructive assailant would to do me if he found me— clearly he was strong and merciless, the door seemed as if it was going to snap in two at any given moment.

A large, meaty fist smashed through the entrance, creating a gaping hole in the center, thick wood chunks and splinters went flying about the space due to the overwhelming force behind the punch. My eyes darted around the room for refuge. If I didn't find somewhere to hide soon, I was done for. The window! I could climb onto the sill and make my way onto the roof— that would shake him off my trail. I had to be quick or I was screwed.

I vaulted back through the window and stood atop the aged, wooden sill. It creaked and wobbled unsteadily, it was a small miracle it didn't immediately cave in beneath my weight. If it did, it would have been a long way down, I was roughly ten feet above ground. Maybe I would have survived the fall, but not without serious injuries.

As if I wasn't pressed enough for time with the murderer right on my tail, my shaky footing forced me to make a hasty jump for the roof. My fingers latched onto the splintery edge for dear life. I heaved myself up and out of sight just in the nick of time. The psychopath's earsplitting assault on the room's jammed entrance ended with a boisterous snap, followed by a loud crash that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house itself. The lunatic must have finally broke down the door.

Silence reclaimed the grassy land. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing, and laid perfectly still on the tarred, wet wooden panels. The roof's infrastructure was just as decayed and corroded as the rest of the house. It'd only take one slight movement to make the surface creak and give away my position.

I remained stationary for a moment or two, my teary, blurred sight locked on the massive puffs of gray clouds gently floating about overhead. The serene night sky eased my nerves, and racing heartbeat. Soon enough, my rasping breaths calmed into steady breathing. I was safe up here for the time being, although I knew I couldn't hide here forever. I still had a job to do.

There were heavy footsteps shuffling against the floors from within the house. The maniac must be on the hunt for me. Thankfully, his clumsy movements did well to give away his location. I should be able to stay out of his way if I'm careful enough.

I rose very slow and cautiously, my eyes scanning over the cold, forlorn hill. That's when I noticed something odd. The cellar doors which were closed shut on my arrival here, were now wide open. Could Marcus and Wrench be down there? My pursuer was currently distracted with combing through the second floor in search for me. I might be able to slip into the cellar without him noticing. It was worth a shot.

I warily made the long climb down from atop the house, all the while mentally begging and pleading with God, or with whatever superior being there was high above, to protect my dear friends until I reached them.

 _Please keep them safe for a little longer. Please, please, almighty one, don't let them die on me. I'm almost there…_

* * *

 **Keep reading to find out what happens next!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Marcus**

The cellar door shook and rattled noisily, as someone on the other side wrestled to dismantle the locks. I raised my pistol, anxiously waiting for the perpetrator to finally show his face.

"Don't hesitate to shoot M," Wrench muttered. "It's either him or us."

This was the moment I've been waiting for. My muscles quivered with anticipation. I've been beating my head against the wall day after day trying to find those responsible for Sitara's kidnapping. For a long while, every clue I found had led to nothing, and every trail I followed had gone cold. It would have been easy to give up. I could think of a million other things that required my attention.

Despite all the pitfalls, I didn't let up. And finally, after so many restless nights of gathering intel, and following the most minuscule leads, I found my way here, to the lair of the murderer himself. The eyeball trophies and the lady tied to a chair with a hole in her face was a dead giveaway that we were in the right place. There had to be plenty more incriminating evidence hidden in the dark corners of this cellar for us to turn over to the cops. We just had to make it out of this alive first.

The cellar door opened with a squeal. A tall, broad shouldered man appeared, his burly frame and pale face laced in the night's shadows. His fingers were clenched tightly around the wooden handle of a large axe. I winced at the sight of it's sharp, iron bladed edge. It was heavily stained with dried blood. Lord knows how many innocent people he's gutted so far with that thing…

At his side was a black, and lanky four-legged creature standing proudly in the darkness. It growled deeply as it inched forward into the light. It was a dog, standing proud and erect, globs of drool dripping from its mouth. The muscular creature sported no leash nor muzzle, and snarled at Wrench and I aggressively. Thankfully, it didn't charge us. Its rust marked paws remained rooted against the ground at its owner's side.

The man and I stared each other down, silently sizing one another up. He was fucking huge, attempting to take him on in hand to hand combat would be suicide. He also happened to have an attack dog, which complicated things. The ferocious creature could cause some serious damage if provoked.

Thankfully I had a gun, but even so, the whole 'shoot first and ask questions later' motto never sat well with me. Pulling the trigger was always last resort, and considering the dog and the axe wielding stranger had yet to make any rash, sudden movements, there was no need to make any hasty decisions on my end either.

Holding him at gunpoint presented the perfect opportunity to pry him for information. I had a ton of questions. Rationally, I decided to ask him the most important question of all first— the one question that's been really irking me since the moment I got here. "Dude, the fuck is up with the eyeball trophies? Like really? Of all things to collect— baseballs, coins, books, comics, video games, Jimmy Siska movies maybe… you decided eyeballs? Why? Does stealing people's eyes and stuffing them in jars get you off or some shit? Do you tend to marvel at your precious collection every now and then to make yourself feel like a bad ass? Or is it just some creepy thing some bat-shit crazy murderers do to remember their victims?"

He raised his head toward the cloudy, night sky. "God, do you want them?" He asked aloud, his voice was unnervingly harsh and gruff like sandpaper. "Shall I bleed the lambs and drink the holy blood?"

"M-Marcus," Wrench stammered, huddling close to me. "This guy is fucking nuts! What are you waiting for dude? Shoot him already—"

His flinty glare darted to us. "I'd keep an eye turned to the shadows if I were you, little lambs. You're outnumbered."

A creaking noise from overhead stole my attention. A trap door hidden within the ceiling swung open, and a wide body slipped through into the cellar's darkness, it's weighty footsteps clacked against the gravelly floor with haste, heading straight for Wrench and I. My pulse pounded in my ears as the shadowy, unknown figure threaded toward us. Instinctively, I aimed my pistol at the imminent threat and squeezed the trigger.

 ** _Bang!_**

The gunshot exploded throughout the spacious cellar. The footsteps came to a halt, followed by a deep groan. Boisterous, vicious barking erupted from the slobbering dog. Without delay, it lunged at me fearlessly, descending the stairs at a frightening speed. The enraged creature's swiftness allowed me only a split second to react.

I stepped aside, dodging the attack. Wrench, who was positioned behind me, was unable to avoid the dog's incoming assault in time.

"Fuck!" Wrench screamed as the dog sunk its teeth into his leg. The animal's brute strength and heavy weight forced him onto the ground. Teeth deeply embedded in his flesh, the dog tugged and shook its head side to side fiercely, attempting to rip the skin clean off his ankle.

Wrench's blood splattered onto the walls and floor from the dog's onslaught. Heart thrashing against my chest, I hurried to his rescue, wrestling the animal off him and throwing it aside.

"Wrench!" I knelt before him and examined his wound. His leg was badly battered and bloody. "Oh fuck man," I mumbled, covering a hand over his bloody wound. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay," he uttered painfully. "Do you understand why I fucking hate dogs now? They're all evil!"

The dog scrambled into a stance, resuming its balance from being thrown. Instead of charging again, it merely growled, licking the blood off its lips. Reluctantly, I drew my gun on the infuriated animal. The thought of hurting a dog, no matter how untamed and aggressive, made me sick to my stomach. But I wasn't gonna let it harm me or my friends. Fuck that—

A cold, hard object pressed against my neck, freezing me in place. I gazed down, laying eyes on the iron, bloodstained axe head. Fear clogged my throat, rendering me speechless.

"Trying to kill my dog, are you?" The man asked, his massive frame hovered over me from behind. "Disarm, little lamb, and God shall spare you his wrath. A great deal of heretics have lost their lives here, a shame if you and your friend were to join them."

As difficult as it was to think straight with an axe to my neck, I had a hunch that this crazy motherfucker was a religious extremist. The constant use of biblical references was an obvious sign of his strong faith. Earlier, when he gazed up at the sky, he was behaving as if he was speaking to God directly. My guess was, he was murdering people in the name of his deranged religious beliefs.

It won't be easy trying to talk my way out of this one. Bible-thumpers alone were difficult to reason with. It had to be borderline impossible trying to reason with a religious radical. And there was no way in Hell I could try and fight. I'd have my head cleaved off in a second tops.

We were royally fucked.

"You have more fight in you than the others. Admirable, but futile." He snapped his fingers at his dog, and it immediately crouched down submissively in response, the intimidating growling ended abruptly. "I ask you again, disarm. Or, I remove your head from your shoulders."

"O-okay," I stammered, warily lowering my gun. "Be cool man."

He kicked my pistol across the dusty floor, and withdrew the bladed edge of his axe from my neck. "This is my home, and I don't take kindly to trespassers. It's time you slept, little lamb. Don't be afraid. My penance will be swift, painless. I won't kill you… yet."

"Fuck you, you crazy, fucking asshole," Wrench snapped, his muscles quivering. "Lay a hand on Marcus and I'll fucking kill you. Do you hear me? I'll scoop out your eyeballs and feed it to your stupid ass dog, see how you like it. Wouldn't that be the perfect slice of just deserts for a shit stain like you?"

The man ignored Wrench entirely, and raised the sturdy, wooden end of the axe handle over my head. "Sleep, little lamb, for the hour of God's judgement draws nigh. Bless these misguided heretics, for they do not understand the awesome power and unconditional love of the Lord. Forgive them for their sins, their selfishness, their daily dishonor of your name, for they do not know what they do…"

He continued to chant aloud. My breathing grew harsh, my stomach churned with dread as I waited for the deranged rant to end. Good Lord, he was preparing to strike, ain't no way this shit was gonna be painless. I grimaced, cold sweat trickled down my forehead. There was soft whimpering coming from the shadows, the woman with the hole in her face must be alive and kicking somehow. She's probably been down here for a while now, being toyed with and tortured day after day. No one deserved to go through that kind of suffering.

If I had a choice in the matter, I'd choose a quick death, painless, and straight to the point— preferably with my eyes still attached to their sockets.

Wrench's trembling hand grasped mine tightly. "You're gonna be okay man." He said weakly, gripping his bloody, mauled leg. "Just breathe."

I shook my head. "T-this can't be happening. How am I gonna have an open casket funeral if he carves out my eyes dude?"

"I don't think you'll need your eyes for that bro. Just your eyelids. You're good, assuming he doesn't collect eyelids as trophies too."

"With our shit luck, he probably does."

"He's not gonna kill you, I don't think. He's just gonna knock you the fuck out. Best case scenario, you'll get a minor concussion. Worst case scenario, he fractures your skull. Unlikely though, M. I think most people can agree you're pretty thick-skulled."

"Is now really the time to be making jokes?"

The man was still ranting, going on and on about God, and some nonsense about our holy blood. Fuck, what was taking him so long? Why wouldn't he just get it over with already?

"My leg got absolutely chewed to shit by a rabid dog, and a strange, bible-thumping serial killer with an optical organ fetish is about to be violently assault, and possibly kill my best friend right before my eyes." Wrench sighed. "So no, now isn't a good time to joke around, but fuck it. I know a losing battle when I see one, and if I can share one more laugh with you before it's all over, then it's worth it." Two bright carets formed on Wrench's mask. "At least we aren't dying alone, right? I'll be right here with you to the very end, promise. And I know you'll be here for me too, M. Believe it or not, but things could be a lot worse."

Somehow, regardless of everything, he remained positive, and found a way to make light of our terrible situation. Ain't too many people in the world crazy enough to smile in the face of death, but Wrench was definitely one of the few. His optimistic demeanor was damn near contagious.

I should have listened to him that sunny afternoon outside his garage. He warned me about how dangerous these people were, but I shrugged it off. After taking down some of San Francisco's nastiest gangs and most influential tech giants, I thought I could handle anything, no sweat.

I couldn't be more fucking wrong. It's bad enough that I got myself into this situation, but I also dragged Wrench down with me. He knew the risks, yet he still volunteered to help me with the investigation. I was grateful he stood by me through it all, but I still felt guilty. He deserved better than this.

Despite the tendrils of fear, remorse, and raw hopelessness latching onto my heart, I returned a weak smile at him.

 **Crack!**

A sharp pain penetrated my head, the sheer impact of the blow caused my brain to quake violently against my skull. The sound of the wood colliding with my head echoed harshly in my ears. I sunk down onto the floor, clenching my throbbing head. There was a slight dampness in the back of my skull, it had to be blood… my blood.

The aching was unbearable. My sight blurred, and a lightheaded, woozy sensation overwhelmed my senses. The dark cellar wouldn't stop spinning and spinning…

With every second that passed, it became more difficult to keep my eyes open. The thought of passing out terrified me. What if I didn't wake up? If I were to die, where would I go? Was there a Heaven or Hell? Would I become a ghost? Was reincarnation actually a real thing? Or would there be only darkness for the rest of eternity?

Despite how much I tried to fight it, I couldn't hold on any longer. Wrench's hand remained firmly clasped around mine as my willpower and consciousness faded away. All in all, it was comforting to know he was still with me, to the very end, just like he promised.

* * *

There was crying, raw, hysterical crying. A body hovered over me, rocking back and forth in absolute anguish. The screaming sobs had a feminine edge, and sounded all too familiar, but I was too disorientated to fathom who exactly it was.

It was a woman sobbing, no doubt. Small droplets of her tears dripped onto my face, trickling down the side of my cheeks. I could taste the saltiness of her grief on the tip of my tongue. Her crying would cease for only a brief moment, as she struggled to draw breath. The emotional pain pouring from the depths of the woman's soul was so raw and unbridled that my heart grew heavy as well. Was she crying over me?

My cranium was still aching like all Hell, and there was a harsh ringing in my ears that wouldn't let up for even a second. It was a miracle I could distinguish the crying in the first place. The hit I took to the head really fucked me up. I must have a concussion. I've had my fair share of them in the past, but this one took the cake as the most painful by far.

I had to get up. I needed to open my eyes. But my body wouldn't listen, my muscles were severely fatigued.

Soft hands latched onto my jacket, and began to shake me roughly. It caused the throbbing pain in my skull to intensify from the sudden pressure. A groan of agony escaped my lips, yet the woman continued to jerk me around desperately, occasionally pounding her small knuckles against my chest in a fit of anger. Fuck, I couldn't tell if she was trying to revive me from the brink of death, or trying to finish me off.

"Please stop…" I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. "That ain't helping…"

The crying came to an abrupt pause, and so did the shaking and hitting, thank the Lord. "M-Marcus?" Undeterred by the ringing in my ears, I was finally able to distinguish the familiar woman's identity by the tone of her sweet, sultry voice. The realization of who she was hit me the moment I heard my name leave her lips. I sighed contently. Maybe my shit luck was finally turning around.

"How you doin' girl?" I feigned a smile.

Sitara sniffed, and threw her slender arms around me, holding me tight. "Jesus Marcus, don't you ever, ever scare me like that again. I-I thought you were…" She paused to sniff.

"Thought I was dead?" I planted a kiss on her wet, tear shrieked cheek. "Nah, I'm good. What are you doing here?"

"I came here to save your ass! Thank God I found you." She gave me a once-over. "Marcus, you're hurt. I told you to take me with you, why don't you ever listen to me?"

"Relax, I was just playing dead this whole time, so I could get a jump on the murderer when he least expected it. Trust me, I had it all under control."

"Fuck yeah he did, can't get rid of M that easily," Wrench uttered. His tone was much weaker and more faint than normal, even with the aid of his mask's robotic, built in voice modulator. "Truth is, I've been sitting here this whole time because my feet hurt, this dog bite is nothing. I woulda' kicked that dude's ass a long time ago, but I decided to wait for M to execute his master plan instead. That way, we could jump em' at the same time."

"You both are so full of crap," Sitara stated. "Seriously, can either of you walk? We have to get out of here."

"I sure as shit can't," Wrench mumbled.

"Unless you're planning on carrying us both out, I'm gonna need a sec'," I muttered. "I feel like total fucking shit right now."

She gently removed my hat and smoothed a hand through my hair. "You said your head was hurting, hun? What's the matter?" Her hand jerked back once her fingers touched over the dampness in the back of my scalp. "Oh my God, you're bleeding. What did he do to you?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. For now, I need to focus on getting up…"

"Just hurry up and pull yourself together Marcus," Sitara demanded. "We have to get moving soon."

I opened my heavy-lidded eyes, finding myself still trapped within the killer's cold, shitty cellar. I was still in a daze; the room was spinning and I felt nauseous. My limbs refused to move. It was gonna be a while before I regained my composure.

The repulsive stench of death hung heavy in the air, it smelled like someone died in here. Fortunately, the room wasn't cloaked in darkness anymore. There were lit, wax candles attached to the walls, the flickering yellow of the small flames illuminating the space with dim lighting.

With the cellar's shadows kept at bay due to the candlelight, I could fully examine the room. There was staggering amount of surgical instrument tables positioned about the room. They were all covered with dirty scalpels, forceps and drills of all different sizes. It seemed excessive, how many tools did one guy need? Maybe he liked variety or something.

One thing was for sure though, he definitely wasn't fuckin' around, buying all this damn surgical equipment. He was determined to get his eyeballs. Most likely, he preferred to collect undamaged organs, and with the proper tools, he'd be less likely to puncture them on removal. An average knife wouldn't be able to do the job.

There was a large streak of blood staining the dirty floor, leading toward the corner of the cellar. At the end of the trail was a fat, bearded dude dressed in nothing but a black vinyl apron, jeans and boots. He was perched against the wall, his body stiff, and unmoving. He was dead. No wonder it smelled so bad in here.

There was a bullet hole in his chest. He must have been the shadowy figure I shot at earlier, who dropped through the trapdoor and tried to ambush Wrench and I. Well, I guess that's one psycho murderer down. One more to go.

However, the axe wielding psychopath was nowhere to be found. The woman with the hole in her face was gone as well. I couldn't say the same for the dog though. The dog laid at the bottom of the cellar's steps completely still, unconscious.

"You took care of the dog, Sitara?" I asked.

"Yeah," she wiped her tear shrieked face. "I didn't have much of a choice, it attacked me on sight. Nothing a good ol' Thunder Ball can't handle though. The poor pup is gonna be out for a while."

"Good riddance," Wrench stated. "Doggo needed an attitude adjustment."

"But what about the lady?" I asked. "And the crazy guy?"

"He dragged her out of the cellar shortly after you passed out M," Wrench explained. "Don't know what he did with her."

"Damn," I frowned.

"He knows I'm here," Sitara said. "But he thinks I'm upstairs. I managed to sneak in here without him noticing, but we don't have much time."

"I have gut feeling he already knows you're down here," Wrench said. "Did you hear how loud you were bawling your eyes out over M? Seriously, you deserve an Oscar award for that star performance. Not even Viola Davis' character in 'Fences' cried that hard, and her whole face was practically covered in snot—"

"Will you stop joking for one second Wrench? We need to get the Hell out of here." Sitara crouched before Wrench, and examined his mauled leg. "Jeez, that looks really bad. Does it hurt?"

"It did, at first. Now it's numb, can't feel a thing."

"That ain't a good sign," I said. "Best not to put any pressure on it."

"C'mon, let me help you up," Sitara said. Wrench threw an arm over her shoulder, and she pulled him up into a stance. Unable to balance himself on his own, he held onto her for support. "Marcus, what about you? Are you okay? Can you stand—"

The cellar's entrance swished open. "Little lambs, I have returned," the deep, scratchy voice of the serial killer filled the space. His clunky boots stomped against the wooden stair's creaking floorboards as he slowly descended into the cellar.

My nauseous stomach hardened. Damn, not this motherfucker again.

Sitara and Wrench's eyes darted to me for guidance. I pointed up at the trapdoor overhead. All three of us could easily climb through if I could get my lazy ass up in time. In my current state, I was practically dead weight, they would be better off leaving me behind, but I knew they wouldn't. Both would fight to the end for me, and I'd do the same for them.

Ain't no way I was gonna let them die trying to defend me though. I choked down the pain and discomfort, and with all the strength I could muster, I shuffled into a stance. I stood on the tip of my toes and pushed open the trapdoor.

"Sitara, you go first," I demanded, grabbing ahold of Wrench and allowing his narrow frame to lean on me.

She gracefully leapt and clutched onto the trapdoor's frame, pulling herself up with ease. She lowered her manicured hand back through hole, reaching out to us. "Wrench, take my hand! Hurry!"

His fingers intertwined with Sitara's. Due to his injury, he was unable to jump. Thankfully, he was light, so it was easy enough to give him a boost upwards.

"Must drink the blood, the holy blood…" The murderer was closing in, dragging his axe behind him. The bloodstained edge grinded against the floor as he slowly approached me, the blade producing an ear-piercing screeching sound like nails scratching a chalkboard. I shuddered, chills running up my spine. He was only a few steps away, and with Wrench and Sitara finally out of harm's way, it was now or never.

I lunged for the trapdoor's opening, and seized the edge. As I was heaving myself into the safety of higher ground, a massive leathery mitt captured my ankle, restricting my movement.

My heart raced, and my muscles quivered with adrenaline. "Fuck me," I cursed my luck aloud, attempting to kick and wrangle myself free, but to no avail, the grip on my leg was steadfast, and unyielding— it was as if the more and more I struggled, the tighter the hold became.

"Marcus!" Sitara and Wrench shouted in unison, hastily rushing to my aid. They grappled onto me, struggling to tug me out of the deadly clutches of our pursuer.

However, their strength combined wasn't enough. The rough, gloved hand gave my leg a stern, powerful jerk. The overwhelming might of the pull caused me to lose my grip on the edge, and I was yanked downward, right out Sitara and Wrench's grasp.

The trapdoor snapped shut the moment I fell. My back hit the cold, solid cement floor. Spasms of pain shot through my lower back and spine from the impact. I clenched my jaw to stiffen my grunts of agony.

Just fucking great… I was trapped in the damn cellar with the religious lunatic yet again, although I was all alone this time around. Yeah, this was certainly gonna end well for me.

Axe in hand, he towered over me, brows furrowed angrily. Now that there were no shadows to hide behind, I could clearly perceive his features. He was a middle-aged man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, wearing blue, dirt smudged overalls. His dark, unkempt hair was freckled with gray, and deep furrows bracketed his gaunt, pasty face. There were various scars and deep cuts embedded in his skin, the guy must of have fought a shitload of battles in his life. Maybe he got them from his victims, not everyone was willing to lay over and die. Some people had to put up a fight.

He gawked at me, thoroughly analyzing me from head to toe. His frigid, blue stare made my flesh crawl. "God wants you." He stated, lifting his axe over my chest, prepping for an attack. "God demands the lamb's holy blood."

Last time I had laid here, I was dazed and barely holding onto my consciousness, rendered immobile by excessive fatigue. Adrenaline pumped through my veins this time around. I wasn't afraid anymore, and I refused to go out without a fight. It wasn't in my nature to give up.

He swung his sharp, hefty axe straight for my torso. I shifted out of the way just in the nick of time, and shoved my foot into his stomach. He recoiled back, eyes widening with surprise. His moment of hesitation allowed me to spring into a stance.

"What? You thought killing me would be easy, huh?" I grinned. "Nah, you're gonna have to work for this holy blood, motherfucker."

"Die!" He exclaimed angrily and bolted forward, quickly closing the distance between us. The lunatic unleashed a barrage of furious strikes at me with his axe. I dodged every swing, patiently abiding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back. His attacks held a lot of force behind them, but they were far too slow. So long as I had breathing room to avoid his sweeping lunges, and didn't back myself into a corner, I'd be fine. Hopefully.

He decided to try and gut me with a sluggish, overhead swing. I stepped aside, and drove my fist into his throat. He gasped, dropping his axe to clutch his neck. The blow knocked the wind straight out of him. I followed up with a punch to his jaw, and a swift elbow across his face. He buckled, tumbling to his knees.

I launched my foot toward his face, hoping to knock him out cold. However, his burly hand locked onto my leg, holding me in place. In a flash, he had resumed a stance and shoulder charged me into the splintery wall. The brute force of his charge caused the rotting wood to cave in on my back, creating a gaping hole in the wall. I grinded my teeth, struggling to endure the aches and spasms tearing through me.

His giant hand enveloped around my neck, and he squeezed as hard as he could, the veins in his enormous, muscular arms protruding his skin. I coughed and choked, my heart pounding violently against my chest. No matter how much I punched, kicked and wrestled for freedom, he wouldn't fucking flinch. I gasped for air desperately, it felt like I was burning alive from the inside out. Small freckles of black and blue spots began to distort my vision.

I couldn't hold on for much longer. No, no, no, I couldn't go out like this. God damn, there had to be something I could do to get this big motherfucker off me.

My eyes darted about the space. There was an instrument table right beside me, teeming with small, sharp scalpels. I snatched up the nearest pair and jammed the blades into his neck. He yelped, backpedaling away from me.

I sunk onto all fours, taking in large clumps of oxygen and wheezing harshly. The same woozy, lightheaded sensation I experienced earlier gripped me once again, causing the room to spin.

I closed my eyes, and took a good moment or two trying regain my composure. Once I opened them, I noticed a shadow lingering over me. I hesitantly peered up, and laid eyes on my enemy. Neck spotted with blood, he stood tall, seemingly undeterred by his wounds. Unlike me, he had already fully recuperated from our scuffle, the small scalpels I stabbed him with lying in the palm of his hand.

I sighed heavily. Welp, I was fucked.

"So…" I mumbled, my voice hoarse from almost being choked to death a moment ago. "About what I said earlier, regarding your eyeball trophies. You know I was playin', right?"

He bashed his foot into my face, my jawbone shattering beneath his large, steel toed boot. The brutal kick forced a tight groan out of me, an intense pain exploded throughout my skull. Overwhelmed by burning and aching rippling through me, my body gave in completely. I collapsed onto the floor, my mouth growing moist with the bitter tang of blood.

"It's over, little lamb," he said, raising his leg over my chest. Without a shred of remorse in his cold glare, he stomped down on my rips repeatedly— again, and again, and again. I wanted to cry out, the agony of each merciless blow far too much to bear, but I couldn't make a sound. All I could do was gargle over my own blood, my throat clogged by its thickness.

His ruthless assault came to a sudden halt. "Don't be afraid," he said. "Death is the ultimate truth that every soul must face at some time or another. I am releasing you of this burden you call a life."

Every single fiber of my being was hurting immensely. I couldn't move nor speak. All I could do was lie here, and wait for the end.

Little did he know, I wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Sure, I was alone, and I literally felt my own heartbeat coming to a slow, but oddly enough, I was cool with it. I was just glad Wrench and Sitara was safe. I could care less of what happens to me.

Truthfully, I was tired of the anguish and suffering. Maybe he was right, life was a pretty big fucking burden. I spent most of it trying to balance the world's problems on my shoulders, and going above and beyond trying to solve them. I never took out much time for myself, I always put everyone else's needs first.

A lot of the time, my selflessness got me into deep shit. Usually, I found a way out of it, but all in all, was it ever truly worth it? It felt good to help people, no doubt. It was easy for me to get so caught up worrying about someone else's happiness, that I'd forget about my own. I didn't regret how my life played out, but if I had one chance to do things differently, I'd devote more time to myself. Of course, I'd never stop defending those who were too weak, scared or brainwashed to do it themselves, but I think I deserved a vacation, or two.

I had no idea how Wrench, Josh and Sitara would cope with me gone. Damn, I hope they'll be okay. Horatio's death really affected them all, but they got through it. The tragedy brought us closer together instead of tearing us apart. Maybe they'd be able to deal with losing me too. Bright side was, I'd be seeing Horatio again soon. I missed the shit out of him.

There was a lot I never got a chance to tell Sitara. She didn't know how deeply I felt for her. Lord knows she wasn't perfect. She was hotheaded, bossy, and prone to random mood swings. And when we clashed heads, it wasn't pretty. But then there were the good times, where her and I got along, and could just vibe. Everything in the world felt right. Her heartfelt compliments and sweet nothings alone made my stomach flutter like mad. I wanted to be around her all the damn time. Whenever she was away, I couldn't get her off my mind.

I didn't think it was possible to form such a deep connection with someone. I wasn't sure if it was love, or an extreme case of infatuation, but I'd do anything for her. She made me happier than I ever thought possible. I was lucky to have had her in my life.

The pain was beginning to fade into numbness, and the reality of my untimely demise had begun to sink in. My eyes grew wet, and tears came flushing down my cheeks in waves. My heart ached, as if my sorrow alone was clawing and shredding it to pieces. The crazy part was, I didn't feel sorry for myself. I was ready to die, I accepted my fate.

My sorrow was all for Sitara. She just about cried her heart out when she had mistaken me for dead earlier. The thought of leaving my baby behind for real terrified me. How would she cope with it? She has been through so much lately. It wasn't fair. I promised I'd be there for her. Shit, how did I let everything fall apart like this?

"Worry not, little lamb." He returned to my side with a pistol in hand. "For I shall recite a prayer for you, to help you on your way to the heavenly kingdom. I, humble disciple of the God, shall lay this lamb down to sleep. I pray the Lord his soul to keep…"

He aimed the gun's black barrel at my head. I closed my watery eyes. My entire life flashed through my mind, starting from my earliest memory when I was just a hardheaded kid, struggling to make it through the day in the ghetto, up until now, where my journey was about to end. I came a long fucking way. I risked everything joining DedSec, and changed the damn world because of it. I've done more in my short life than most people could ever dream of. I promised myself I'd never stop fighting the good fight, and here I was, about to die for it.

I wouldn't want it any other way.

"Should he die, allow his spirit into your loving embrace," he continued. "So his sacrifice shall not be in vain."

 ** _Bang!_**

The gunshot rang out into the world. I waited anxiously for bullet to pierce my skull. The problem was, I didn't feel anything. Was I dead? I didn't feel dead, although, I wasn't sure if being dead even had a feeling. Because if I were dead, my nervous system would had ceased function, so I wouldn't be able to feel anything at all—

"Marcus!" Sitara's voice filled my ears. I hesitantly opened my eyes. The murderer laid face down on the floor before me, a bloody smoking bullet hole in the back of his head. Sitara studied the corpse carefully from a short distance away, holding a gun tightly in her grasp. "Is he dead?" She asked.

I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me. This made the second time she had saved me in one night. Seemed like she wasn't gonna let me leave her anytime soon. Well shit, I was more than grateful. I owed her my life. I'd follow her anywhere, and stick by her side for all eternity if I could.

But for now, I really needed to get to a hospital, or I wasn't going to survive the night, let alone an eternity.

* * *

 **So this chapter was rather dark, well, moreso than the others lol. I hope it wasn't too much. If so , don't be afraid to let me know. I appreciate feedback.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sitara**

One month had passed since the horrible night we crossed paths with the serial killers. We were lucky to have made it out of that God-awful cellar alive. Thankfully, I was able to get Marcus and Wrench to a hospital just before they succumbed to their wounds.

Wrench only needed the dog bite on his leg cleaned and stitched, whereas Marcus had to undergo emergency surgery. His injuries were severe— internal bleeding, broken jaw and ribs, as well as a concussion. The surgery lasted hours, and at the time, I honestly thought he wouldn't make it.

It was a miracle he did. The doctors stopped the bleeding and stabilized him. When they finally allowed me to see him, he was unconscious, in a deep sleep from the anesthesia coursing through his veins.

I was at his bedside that entire night, until the end of visiting hours the following day, waiting for him to wake up. But he didn't.

He's been in a coma ever since. The doctors believe it's due to the swelling in his brain from his head injury. According to them, there was nothing we can do but wait and hope for the best. It was devastating to hear. I felt so powerless.

Every day, from dawn to dusk, I remained at his side and watched over him, wishing he'd wake up already. Time itself seemed to be at a standstill as I waited for him to open his eyes for weeks.

Nothing was the same without him. Heartache weighed me down, and casted a shadow over my life. The everyday activities I used to enjoy became little more than tedious distractions from the pain. I was glad to still have my friends, but the hackerspace felt bleak without Marcus' energy and upbeat spirit. Being forced to carry my heartache everywhere I go was so grueling and exhausting. It was a struggle most days to even get out of bed.

I still had so many good memories of him— his cute, goofy laugh, his sweet smile, his warm, gentle hugs. The nostalgia of it all would sometimes ease the pain, and so did my daily hospital visits. I could see, touch, and ramble to him about whatever I wanted to. I doubt he was listening, but it was comforting to know he was still alive and breathing at least. I often pondered whether he was dreaming as he slept soundly. If so, I hope he wasn't having nightmares.

I always made sure to bring along my sketchbook. When I got tired of sitting around and rambling, I'd begin to draw. As much as I adored being around Marcus, hospitals were awfully boring. I had to do something to preoccupy my mind or else I'd go crazy. I've drawn some pretty good sketches so far. I was dying to show them off to him the moment he woke up, that is, after I finished bombarding him with hugs and kisses. Please, let it be sometime soon.

It was a vibrant summer morning. The sun's strong, golden rays shined through the large window of Marcus' pale white hospital room, providing warmth. I sat beside his adjustable bed, sketchbook and pencil in hand, absent-mindedly tapping my feet to the beep of his heart monitor, as I doodled random squiggly lines on my paper. My phone's been buzzing like crazy with text message notifications from just about every DedSec member on the face of the planet. Today was a special day for the team.

It was Independence Day, where people got together and enjoyed outdoor picnics, and watched enormous, spectacular firework shows explode in the night sky. And every 4th of July, all of DedSec would band together to throw an amazing, wild party for our followers, as a thank you for their support. The money and effort we put into the tradition was always worth it in the end, because it'd nab us hundreds, even thousands of more followers. It was a blowout every year. The party this year was undoubtedly going to be the craziest we've ever thrown. We had more followers than we ever dreamt possible now.

I did a fair amount of blogging about the upcoming event, to get the word out to our followers. Wrench and Josh have been working their asses off for weeks now, coordinating and planning the event with other DedSec members. I would have offered to helped with the preparations, but I wasn't feeling up to it. I wasn't planning to attend the party this year anyhow.

A soft knock on the door captured my attention. Wrench appeared, casually strolling into the room with his arms crossed. He needed crutches to walk for a couple of weeks, but he seemed to be getting around just fine now. There was a slight limp to his stride, but it was hardly noticeable. "Hey Sitara, what a surprise to find you here," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I merely shrugged my shoulders.

He stood beside Marcus' bed and stared down at him. "How's M doing? The doctors give you any updates?"

"Well, he's still in a coma," I replied. "They just recently took him off oxygen. Apparently, he can breathe just fine on his own."

"So why the fuck won't he wake up already? I mean, he looks perfectly fine, doesn't he? His broken bones have healed; he can breathe on his own now. His condition is clearly improving. Maybe it won't be too much longer before he wakes up."

"I hope so, Wrench."

"Yeah, me too. Cause' I fucking hate hospitals, it always smells like old people and medicine in here. Oh, I got some good news by the way. The feds are making strides in the missing persons cases thanks to the evidence we turned over to them from that shitty night in the killer's cellar. A lot of their recent developments have made the news. You should look into it Sitara."

"I'm glad they're making progress, thanks to us. I just hope everything we went through…" I sighed, glancing at Marcus, "everything he went through, was worth it in the end."

"Knowing Marcus, I'm sure he thinks so. Poor bastard would go above and beyond to help people. Remember how much shit he went through just to get my mask back?" Two hearts formed on his mask as he chuckled at the memory. "M's the best. They don't make em' like him anymore, you know?"

We had so many good memories of his selflessness and kindness. But whenever I thought of them, I wasn't filled with the happiness and warmth of nostalgia. The recollections only saddened me more. They reminded me of how much I missed him. I sniffed, my lashes brimmed heavy with tears. I tried to hold back the emotions washing over me, I didn't want to cry in front of Wrench. But I couldn't hide the sadness I was feeling. Life wasn't fair. Bad things like this shouldn't happen to good people.

Wrench turned, and winced at the sight of the tears on my face. "Crap," he muttered under his breath, pausing to clear his throat awkwardly. "Did I uh, say something wrong?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, I just… I miss him."

He stooped down low, his eyes coming to level with mine. His work-roughened, calloused fingers enveloped my hands, and squeezed lightly. "I miss M too," he said softly. "You should come to the beach party tonight Sitara."

"We're doing a beach party this year?"

"Fuck yeah we are. It'll be good for you to get out and do something fun for once, don't cha' think?"

"No, I rather stay here."

"Sitara, c'mon! You can't miss the event. It's a DedSec tradition, which you totally made no effort to help make happen this year— I forgive you by the way, given the circumstances. I know how close you and M have grown before he went into a coma, the timing really sucks."

"It hurts, Wrench. Missing him is like a heartache that never goes away."

"There's a remedy for heartache. It's called cheap booze, drugs, good music and friends. You don't want to miss this party, it's going to be fucking rad. Mark my words."

"Wrench—"

"Please, you have to be there! We need you, your art is the face of DedSec. There's a shitload of our followers dying to meet you. It's gonna be a blast, everyone's going to be there. If not for yourself, do it for the fans. They love your work. Show them how much you love them too by showing up. If it wasn't for the processing power of our followers, we would have never taken down Blume. C'mon, Marcus would want you to be there—"

"Fine," I grumbled. "I'll go to the stupid party, just for appearance's sake. But I'm not staying long."

"That's fine with me, so long as you at least show up and check it out." He stood. "I gotta run, there's some last-minute preparations I need to attend to for tonight. I'll text you the when and where. You so won't regret this Sitara."

Wrench quickly scrambled out of the room. He was gone before I could mutter a word. Smart, he probably left in such a hurry so I wouldn't get a chance to change my mind. I wiped my tears and gravitated to Marcus, clutching his motionless hand.

"Well, I guess I'm doing this for you," I mumbled.

* * *

I sat at the shoreline, my bare feet buried in the beach's warm sand. Moonlight reflected off the wide expanse of ocean lapping the shore, causing its deep blue ripples to sparkle gently. Small, white foaming waves swept over my toes, and spread across the golden sand. Loud music overwhelmed the beach, the bass thumping fast and energetically. The sound of the beat pulled people together like magnets, their sweaty bodies molded together as they brazenly rocked to the beat. I could barely make out the soft cackling of the bonfire over the blaring music and faint chatter of our guests.

Josh was setting off firecrackers in the distance, the fiery sparks and red flares capturing my attention from the deep blue ocean every now and then. He seemed to have it all under control, and was having such a great time, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he carefully examined the flickering sparks.

I've been at the party for a good thirty minutes now. I had finished greeting our followers about ten minutes ago and debated going home, but I heard rumors that there was supposed to be a massive firework show soon, so I decided to stay. The party actually wasn't half bad, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The vibes were good, and the drinks were free, an added bonus. It wouldn't hurt to stick around for a little longer.

I was on my fourth bottle now. Wrench was right, cheap beer and good music really did cure heartaches. The world was getting pretty fuzzy at this point, but I didn't care. I kept on drinking anyway, I needed an escape.

Speaking of Wrench, where the Hell was he? I haven't seen anywhere. Maybe he's planning to be fashionable late. As stoked as he was about the party, I figured he'd be here sooner—

"Excuse me?" A finger tapped my shoulder.

I glanced behind me. I spotted a pair of eyes gazing down on me. They were a deep, vivid green, filled with specks of golden light around the pupils. I've never seen such striking eyes. I wasn't sure whether it was because of the excessive amount of alcohol in my system, but I found myself mesmerized just staring into them.

The captivating gaze belonged to tall man, with tousled, thick brown hair and a face full of soft freckles that dotted his broad cheekbones, forehead and square chin. "Sorry for bothering, but you're Sitara, right?" He asked, his hands tucked casually within the dark blue fabric of his skinny jeans. His soft voice carried a thick, elegant British accent.

"Could be," I replied, my voice slightly slurred from all the beer I downed. "Who's asking?"

"My mate over there," he pointed to a chubby dude hanging out by the bonfire. He wore the strangest looking red hardhat on his head, with two beer cans strapped on each side, accompanied by a large, tube-like straw. "He's been following your blog for a long time now, and has been itching for your autograph since we made the trip here from London. But he's too nervous to ask you himself."

"Oh, you guys are tourists?"

"That we are, for one night only. We're both huge supporters of DedSec and wouldn't have missed this event for the world. You guys are absolutely inspirational."

I blinked. "We have rep in the UK?"

"Quite a bit of it. Most of it bad, might I add. People are afraid of what you can do. But bad publicity is still publicity all the same right?"

"Sure is. Most people are too brainwashed to realize the message we've been trying to get across to them. We're not the bad guys. We expose the truth to the people for their own good. I don't know about where you're from, but stick around San Francisco long enough and you'll realize just how corrupt the media and the soulless tech giants are." I waved a hand at his friend, beckoning him over to us.

He shuffled his way over, his walk weaving and unsteady. The poor guy must be even more drunk than me. "Sitara!" He exclaimed happily.

"Heard you wanted an autograph?" I asked. "Got a pen?"

"I have one." The one with the pretty green eyes retrieved a black ballpoint pen from his back pocket. "Here." He handed it to me.

"Thanks. Where do you want me to sign, big guy?"

He took a moment to suck on the tube hanging from his drinking hat, yellow liquid seeped from the beer can attached to it, and into his mouth. "My stomach," he stated. "Sign it please, with your name." He lifted his beer stained shirt, revealing a hairy, pudgy pale belly.

It was a weird request, and kinda disgusting too, but I was too tipsy to care. I etched my signature across his hairy stomach to the best of my ability. The chubby dude beamed at me and took off for bonfire, tripping over his own feet the entire way.

"I think your friend had too much to drink," I stated, returning the pen to its owner.

"Nothing out of the ordinary for him," he said. "Wish I could take a swig myself, but unfortunately, I'm the designated driver. Sucks to be me."

"Sure does."

He smiled. "Would you like some company? I noticed you've been on your lonesome for a while now, love. I could bugger off and leave you to it—"

"No, you're fine. Word of warning though, I'm down in the dumps and I don't think I'll be crawling out of it anytime soon. So, if you want to waste your precious time hanging around a killjoy like me, be my guest. But if I were you, I'd run for the hills."

"That's rubbish. Indeed, you've been off, drinking on your own the entire night while everyone else is having the time of their lives. But you don't strike me as a killjoy. A killjoy would have told me to bugger off at first glance." He crouched down into the sand beside me. "You seem like more of a loner to me."

"I'm actually known to be a social butterfly. But lately, things have been different."

"You mentioned being down in the dumps. Did something happen?"

I shook my head, hugging my legs to my chest. The last thing I wanted to do was waste the night confessing my sorrows to a stranger. I was tired of dwelling on my issues, I wanted an escape.

"You know the best thing about confiding in a stranger?" He asked.

"Nope," I responded. "I didn't know there was anything good about it."

"It never comes back to bite you in the arse. Your secrets are safe with me, solely because I haven't soul to spill them to. Come morning, I'll be back on the road." He pulled out a notepad from the depths of his pocket, and began flipping through the pages until he reached a blank sheet. "My name's Oliver by the way." He gaped out at the water for a second, and then shifted his focus to the notepad in his lap. Pen in hand, he carefully began to scrawl a rough sketch of gentle, sparkling ocean before us.

"You draw?" I asked, surprised by his ability to create faint, contrasting shades to clearly depict the night's shadows cloaking the horizon.

"I got my BA a year ago," he answered.

I silently watched him draw for a moment. "You're good. I'm impressed."

"I've seen better. Realism is my style, portraits specifically. People have real depth to them, faces alone can tell powerful stories. I strive to capture that depth in every portrait I attempt, but it's a work in progress. Most of the time, I fall short. Most of my work is subpar at best."

"Good and bad are subjective terms when it comes to art. Drawing isn't about recreating exactly what you see. A good artist considers not only the subject their drawing, but the message they want to convey to the world. Overall, your art is good if it pleases the viewer currently interacting with it. What looks good to one person, may look like total crap to another. If you want to get better, it's all about choosing your audience, and trying to improve their relationship and connection with your pieces. Remember that beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Oliver lowered his pen, and gazed at me. "That was… very well said. Thank you. I've seen your work, it's jaw dropping to say the least. Would you give me the pleasure of witnessing your brilliant craftsmanship firsthand?" He passed me his utensil and notepad, our fingers brushed lightly.

"Realism isn't my style," I feigned a smile. "You're much better at it than I am."

"You said it's all about conveying a message, and making a statement. If I wanted to capture meaning in my art, like in my portrayal of the ocean for example, what should I be looking for?"

"You have to search for the answer inside yourself. Study the image you want to recreate on paper and gather the impressions it gives you based off sight alone. I think that's the first step, and after that, determine how it makes you feel, and try to incorporate it into your art so viewers can see and feel the exact same. Portraits are your specialty, so you're just gonna have to dig and look deep into the person you to plan to draw."

He nodded. "I suppose I'd have to. Ever thought of getting your own self portrait professionally done?"

"No way. I look at myself enough in the mirror, I don't need a giant painting of myself hanging on my wall too. Seems narcissistic to me."

"A shame. I'd love to take a crack at sketching you one day."

"Sorry, but I doubt you'd be able to accurately capture my depth, hotshot." I grabbed my half-buried beer out of the sand and gulped down the remainder of it. "I've got multiple layers," I continued. "And they sure as Hell aren't easy to see through."

He studied me, the heat of his gaze caused my temperature to skyrocket with nervousness. "There is a lot more to you than meets the eye," he mumbled, scratching the neatly trimmed, rugged beard stubble adorning his refined jawline in thought. "No offense intended, but you didn't have to warn me about your funk. There's sadness weighing down on you, and it's blatant. It's a tragedy really, that a woman as beautiful, talented, and inventive as yourself could be so afflicted."

I glanced at him, thrown off guard by his delicate words. My inhibitions and sound judgement was swept away by a tingling, fuzzy feeling in the depths of my stomach from my heavy drinking. Oliver and I made eye contact, his luxurious green gaze captivated me. Thin lips curved into a smile, he cupped my chin, his face slowly nearing mine. Under normal circumstances, I'd never kiss a stranger. I just met this man, it didn't feel right, at all. But I was in a daze, nausea suddenly gripping my insides.

Truthfully, the only person in the world I wanted to be intimate with was Marcus. He treated me like a princess, his touch always so tender, caring and careful. There was also his tendency to carry me around everywhere, as if I were fragile as glass. He was such a sweetheart, I missed him so much. If only he were here… I wouldn't be trapped here in a drunken haze, about to kiss a total stranger. I wouldn't feel so damn depressed and alone all the time.

I may have been lonely and drunk, but I wasn't gonna let this handsome stranger take advantage of me. I still had some sense of willpower and dignity left within me. His lips were about a centimeter away from mine before I mustered the courage to whisper, "we shouldn't—"

"Sitara?" A deep, familiar voice snapped me from my stupor. I whirled around in the direction of the voice. Marcus appeared, with Wrench at his side, standing tall and alert, as if he hadn't been in a coma for weeks on end. Wide-eyed with disbelief, Marcus stared at me, his thick brows furrowed.

Wrench's mask blinked with exclamation points. "Well, this is awkward."

I pulled away from Oliver and scrambled into a stance. "M-Marcus," I stammered. "It's not… I wasn't…" I tried desperately to explain myself, my lips moving but no sound coming out, like a fish out of water. I was at a loss of words, still processing the fact that he had finally awakened, with the strength to have made it all the way out here as well. He had recuperated so quickly.

Behind the thick frames of his glasses were rich brown eyes laced with pain. Unable to hide my shame, my sight blurred with tears. He shook his head, and then turned away from me.

"Marcus!" I cried, my voice quivering. I stumbled after him, my steps weaving and unsteady. It was such a struggle trying to keep my balance. He was walking so fast, I had to push past multiple people just to keep up. "Marcus, wait—"

My feet abruptly slipped from under me. I tumbled down face first into the hot sand. The sand's tasteless, grainy texture filled my mouth. I could feel the heat of everyone's eyes on me as I lifted my heavy head and spat out a cluster of dust. My cheeks burned. I've never been this embarrassed in my entire life.

Marcus' blurry, masculine frame crouched before me, his hand combing through my strands gently to rid the sand from my hair.

"Marcus, I'm sorry," I said tearfully, my throat scratchy from the tiny particles of sand I accidentally swallowed. "I'm so, so sorry."

He took me into his strong arms with ease. I hid my face in his jacket as he whisked me away from the prying eyes. The beat of the music and the hazy voices of the partiers began to fade in the distance. I still felt queasy, but I was determined to keep it down. I didn't want to embarrass myself more than I already had.

Marcus' movement had ceased after a minute or two. I shifted my face from the protection of his jacket, finding myself in his lap. He stopped to recline on a wood bench perched atop a small, grassy hill overlooking the deep blue ocean. From this angle, I could admire the sea's calm, gleaming waves in all their glory. The tides pushed in and out onto the shore in an endless cycle, stretching itself thin, only for the wind to tug it right back where it started.

I gazed up at Marcus. Lips pressed together in a slight grimace, he quietly gaped at the horizon. There must be so much going through his mind. Even though we weren't officially a couple, I still felt horrible about earlier. I had a lot I wanted to say, but for some reason, I could only manage to mutter two words.

"I'm sorry," I cupped his stubbled cheek.

He sighed, lowering my hand from his face. "Ain't nothing to be sorry about. You and I had a thing going on, but we never agreed for our relationship to be monogamous."

"Marcus—"

"I woke up this afternoon," he continued. "I got in contact with Wrench the first chance I could, I remembered all the blood he lost from the dog bite. I was worried he didn't make it, I didn't realize how much time had passed. He picked me up from the hospital, and told me all about some crazy beach party going down tonight, and how you were gonna be there. We thought it'd be a cool idea for me to show up and surprise you." He grinned stiffly. "I guess we ended up surprising each other, didn't we?"

"I'm a horrible person," I mumbled, a burp escaping my lips. I cupped my mouth, unable to stop myself from giggling. "God, that was gross. I'm sorry."

"Damn girl, how much have you had to drink?"

"Too much."

"How much is too much?"

"Three bottles. No, four I think. Maybe five? Wait, definitely four for sure. I feel like I'm going to puke any moment now." I frowned. "Are you mad?"

"That you might have alcohol poisoning? Or at the fact that I caught you about to kiss another dude?"

"Um… Both?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, I don't really know how to feel right now. I mean, I just got out of a coma not long ago, I'm still processing everything—"

"Can you take me home?" I blurted out, the disgusting tang of vomit on the edge of my throat. "I really need to puke and I wanna do it behind the safety of four walls, where everyone isn't freaking watching. Wait, is it a good idea for you to drive? Maybe you shouldn't be operating machinery. You probably shouldn't be out of bed in the first place."

"Nah, it's cool. Your place ain't far, we'll be fine. Just don't puke on me, it'll be much easier for me to focus on driving that way, alright?"

"No promises," I muttered.

* * *

 **I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. Leave a comment if you are!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sitara**

The moment Marcus and I arrived at my apartment, I sped off for the bathroom. Unable to withhold my urge to vomit any longer, I began puking my guts out into the toilet shamelessly. Vile chunks of undigested food and stomach acid propelled from my mouth. God, it reeked, and it tasted awful. Marcus appeared behind me. His fingers combed the loose strands of my hair away from my face as I barfed. The churning contractions in my stomach were so uncomfortable and brutal, I was practically in tears.

I sat on the cold tiled floor for a good minute or two, purging my system and crying my eyes out at the same time. Eventually my stomach calmed, and my heaving ceased.

Marcus reached over and flushed the toilet for me. "Feel any better?"

"I feel horrible," I murmured, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?"

"Yeah, I do actually. I've been in your position multiple times." He took my hand and helped me to my feet.

I could hardly stand straight, and I still felt lightheaded. Even so, my intoxication alone wasn't enough to rid me of my guilt from being caught with Oliver. Granted, I wasn't going to kiss him, but considering the intimate position Marcus found us in, it was gonna be really hard convincing him of the truth. And trying to do so while drunk would be a disaster. Hopefully my desperate, heartfelt apologies would suffice for now.

"I'm a horrible person," I said, my speech slurred.

Marcus gave me a once-over, and then shook his head. "You need a shower." He stepped past me and twisted the hot water knob. Warm water rained down from the showerhead. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My tear streaked cheeks were caked with sandy residue from my embarrassing fall at the beach. It was all over me, on my clothes, in my hair… Marcus was right, I did need a shower.

"You're gonna need something clean to change into," Marcus said. "Be right back." He disappeared into the hall, and returned a short while later with a white t-shirt and comfy, black cotton shorts from my wardrobe.

"Thanks," I murmured as he handed me my spotless attire.

"No problem. I'll be right outside if you need me."

He departed, shutting the door behind him. I stripped off my sandy clothes and shoes, and stumbled into the shower. Hot, steaming water caressed my skin and began cleansing my sandy hair.

Despite what had happened on the beach, and the fact that he had just woken up from a coma, he was still going out of his way to take care of me. I guess some things never change. It was only natural for him after all, he was the most caring man I've ever met. Sometimes to a fault— a person as tenderhearted as him was bound to have their kindness be taken advantage of every now and then.

I hope he didn't think I was taking his kindness for granted. I knew I could be difficult sometimes, but that didn't mean I was ungrateful. I needed him, more than I cared to admit. If only I was better at showing him how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness, instead of giving him a hard time at every turn…

My shower was long and soothing. The steaming hot water cleansed me of my impurities, and rejuvenated my senses. My mind felt much clearer, my drunken haze had faded away. Thank God.

Once I finished my shower, I leisurely dried myself off with a clean towel and slipped into the fresh clothes Marcus gave me. I withdrew from the bathroom and entered my bedroom, only to find Marcus laid across my bed on his side, snoring lightly. He must have drifted asleep during my long shower. I wanted to wake him up so we could talk, but his slumber looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Careful not to disrupt him, I eased down into the comfort of my bed beside him.

I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him, but after what happened tonight with Oliver, I wasn't sure if that was the best idea. He probably needed space. I turned away from him and pulled my blanket over my shoulder instead.

I tried to get some rest myself, but I couldn't stop shifting around to steal a glance at Marcus every five minutes. For some irrational reason, I was worried he wasn't going to wake back up— that he'd slip into a coma again. I was tempted to shake him, just to make sure he was okay, but I was too much of a chicken to actually go through with it. Deep down, I was afraid for him to wake up too. I had no idea where him and I stood. The uncertainty had me on edge.

My phone began to ring and vibrate noisily on my nightstand, notifying me that someone was calling. I scooped it up and quickly answered the call in a desperate attempt to silence the unruly chime. "Hello?"

"Sitara?" Wrench's synthetic voice filled my ear. "Where are you? Where's M?"

"He's with me," I answered quietly. "At my apartment."

"Oh, you guys kissed and made up already?"

"Um, not exactly."

"What? Are you guys alright?"

"We're fine, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, Marcus is sleeping."

"Christ, how much sleep does one guy need? Are you sure he's okay?"

"I don't know, comas aren't my field of expertise. But he's been pretty active for a person who just got out of one. He's probably exhausted."

"Okay. I need to wrap a couple things up at the party, then I'm coming over to check on you two. Be there in forty-five minutes." He hung up before I could protest. Welp, so much for trying to get any shuteye.

A sigh escaped Marcus' lips. "Was that Wrench?" He asked sleepily.

"Yeah, he's going to be here in about forty-five minutes," I replied. "He's worried about us, you mostly though. Are you okay?"

He took a moment to stretch before lazily sitting up. "My muscles are stiff as fuck, and everything feels weird."

"Weird how?"

"Not sure how to explain it, girl." He held his hands out in front of him and studied them intently. "I don't remember it being this hard to move. It takes conscious effort for me to even lift a finger, movement doesn't come naturally anymore. Nothing feels normal right now. I feel like I'm dreaming." He gazed at me. "But I ain't dreaming, right? I'm awake, aren't I?"

I laid a hand on his lap. "Can you feel that?"

He nodded.

"Well there you go, you're not dreaming. Welcome to the real world." I smiled. "You were in a coma for a while, but you're awake now Marcus."

"But none of this feels real," he scrubbed an unsteady hand over his face. "I don't understand how I got here. Shit just isn't adding up."

Jeez, I didn't realize he was this confused about everything. He seemed relatively normal earlier. Clearly, a screw must had come loose in his noggin between now and the time I spent in the shower. But given the circumstances, he was holding himself together pretty well for a guy who's been out for a whole month. It was a miracle he was able to walk and communicate at all.

"Okay Marcus, just calm down and relax." I gently removed his hat from his head and helped him out of his jacket. "We'll figure this all out together, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled.

I set his attire aside. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up?"

His thick brows furrowed in thought. "I remember being somewhere dark and cold. I was trapped there, staring at the barrel of a gun. I couldn't move…" He paused to swallow, his muscles tensed as he recounted the awful memories. "There was a lot of pain, everything hurt. I remember wishing it would all end. I remember missing you, and worrying about leaving you behind. Everything beyond that is foggy."

An overall weighted feeling gripped my shoulders. I reached out to him, hoping to alleviate his pain, but he shifted away from my grasp. "I don't need a pity party Sitara," he stated. "You don't have to pretend like things between us haven't changed. I know you moved on."

I frowned. "I know you're upset about earlier. Can you let me explain what happened before jumping to conclusions?"

"What is there to explain? I was out for a while, with no guarantee that I'd ever wake up. I get it. I don't blame you for moving on."

"It's not like that. You've got it all wrong."

"Nah, it's cool. We never agreed to be committed to one another anyway—"

"Marcus!" I snapped, silencing him. "Will you shut up for just a second and hear me out? Please?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Alright," he muttered. "I'm listening."

I sighed heavily, my stomach twisted in knots nervously. This was my one chance to make things right, to make him realize how wrong he was about the whole situation, so I could redeem myself and we could put this mess behind us. The pressure was on. I refused to screw this up.

"The guy you found me with at the party, Oliver, is one of our followers," I explained. "We met shortly before you showed up, he's practically a stranger. I had too much to drink, and things escalated. But honestly, regardless of how long you were gone, being with someone else felt wrong. Coma or not, it felt like I was betraying you." I hugged my knees to my chest, my gaze dropped to the white carpeted floor.

"That night I saved you from the cellar, was the longest night of my life," I continued. "I rushed you and Wrench to the hospital, I never drove so fast in my life. You lost consciousness on the way there, and God, there was so much of your blood on my hands Marcus, I thought sure you weren't going to make it. The doctors immediately took you in for surgery. It lasted hours, and I waited and waited for you to wake up. But you didn't. Then I got news from the staff that you were in a coma." I sniffed, my eyes grew wet. "I felt like my whole world came crashing down on top of me when I heard the news. I jumped to worst-case scenario. I thought you were gone for good."

"Shit," he said, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Although I thought you were gone, there was a tiny shred of hope left within me that refused to give up on you. I was at your bedside day after day, from dusk until dawn. I just couldn't seem to function without you, I needed to be close to you. When I wasn't, I felt empty inside."

"Every day I'd daydream about being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes." A stiff laugh escaped me. "Gosh, I imagined it to be such an amazing moment in my mind. I figured witnessing something so rare and magical would make my patience, and all the sadness and loneliness worth it in the end. But I wasn't there for you. I'll have to live with the guilt of not being there for that special moment for the rest of my life. And to make matters worse, you found me with someone else shortly after. But do you know what hurts me the most about all of this?"

"What?"

"The fact that you don't think you're worth waiting forever for," I said softly. "Don't you know I can see straight through you? Underneath those layers of confidence and false bravado is the most tenderhearted, compassionate man I've ever met. You're a rarity, Marcus. Different— in the best way."

He gazed at me, his brown eyes softened. "Sitara…"

I cupped his stubbled cheek. "When will you realize your worth hun? How on Earth could I could move on from you? Especially after everything we've been through?"

"I don't know girl." He shrugged his drooping shoulders. "I know you were drunk, and I've been out of the picture for a while, but it hurt like a motherfucker seeing you with someone else. I didn't know what to think. I thought you forgot about everything we had."

"No, that'll never, ever happen," I muttered tearfully. "Marcus, you are amazing, good and just. You deserve someone who would wait until all Hell freezes for you. I'm sorry if my actions tonight made you feel any less than the perfect man you are. I betrayed your trust, I made a stupid mistake. You deserve so much better than me— so much better than the awful hand life has been dealing you lately. It's not fair Marcus. I hate it…"

"Come here." He pulled me into his warm embrace, my thighs straddling his lap. "Don't cry baby," he whispered into my ear softly, the side of his chiseled face nuzzling mine lovingly. "It ain't so bad. We'll get through this together alright?"

"I don't want anyone but you, I swear it."

"I know baby, it's okay. You slipped up, it happens. I don't care who or what I deserve, I'm happy so long as I have you girl. You may not be perfect, but you're perfect for me."

I gripped his shoulders and held onto him tightly, breathing in the alluring scent of his woodsy aftershave. Butterflies fluttered about my stomach. Despite the tears flowing down from my eyes, I felt elated to be in his strong arms again. Everything felt right in the world when I was in the safety of his embrace.

"You gonna be okay?" He asked, teasing his lips over my earlobe playfully.

I chuckled, shyly pulling away from him. "Hey, that tickles."

"That was the idea. I missed that beautiful smile of yours." He touched a thumb to my face, wiping away the tears still lingering on my cheeks. "It's crazy. I didn't think I'd ever see my baby again. But here we are."

"I take it you forgive me for earlier then?"

"Hmm, I dunno." He smirked. "Maybe."

"What do you mean 'maybe'? It's either you forgive me or you don't."

"Nah, you're gonna have to make it up to me. Can't let you off the hook that easy."

"So my heartfelt apology wasn't enough? Bummer."

"Hell no it wasn't. You really got your work cut out for you, my forgiveness doesn't come free girl—"

I crashed my lips against his. He winced, initially caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but soon melted into it. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. Our clinging kiss was long and lustful, allowing me more than enough time to savor the subtle, sugary goodness of mocha coffee on his lips. He tasted just as sweet as I remembered. Eventually, we both reluctantly drew away from one another to catch our breath.

"Damn," he beamed, his beautiful brown skin flushed a rosy pink. "You know what, I think I forgive you."

"So much for having my work cut out for me," I grinned. "You're adorable."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh. Especially when you're blushing. You have no idea how cute you look right now."

He chuckled, his face reddening. "Stop it. Not the flattery again."

"Aw, look at you." I pinched his blushing cheeks.

"Cut that out." Marcus' hands slipped under my shirt, his blunt fingers tickled my tummy lightly.

I cackled, shoving him away playfully. "Okay, okay! I'll stop. Sheesh."

He smiled and lifted my shirt slightly, inspecting my stomach. "Your bruises are all gone."

"Yeah, and the cut on my arm healed," I replied, gazing at the long dark scar my past wound left behind.

"Really?" He smoothed a hand over the blemish. "Weird, feels like it was festering just yesterday."

"You cleaned and bandaged it a month ago."

"I still can't believe it's been that long."

"How are you feeling? Is everything still foggy?"

"Yep." He snuggled close to me, lying his head on my chest. "Doesn't seem like it'll be easing up anytime soon."

I held his strong body in my arms, softly combing my fingers through his short, curly hair. He sighed contently, closing his eyes. We laid together in peaceful silence for quite some time. I couldn't stop thinking about the situation with Oliver earlier though. Despite everything Marcus and I have been through, the one mistake I made by almost kissing Oliver had put our entire relationship in jeopardy.

Thankfully we were able to work things out, but what if something like this happened again? The deep bond we shared could easily break apart, and things between us would never be the same. It scared me.

"Marcus?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"About earlier, when you said we never agreed to be committed to one another— what are we then?"

"We're whatever you want us to be."

"Well I don't do the whole 'friends with benefits' thing. It's overrated in my opinion."

"Then let's be more girl."

"Like… an actual couple?"

"Mhmm. I love the idea of you being mine, and I wanted to ask you, but I was waiting for the right time. I know you prefer to take things slow anyhow."

"God, I'm so tired of waiting Marcus. All I ever do is wait."

"So let's make things official then."

"Really?" I sat up, gazing at him. "Are you sure?"

He rose with me, his thick brows furrowed with concern. "Yeah, there ain't nothing stopping us, is there? I'm down to try this if you are."

"I want to, but I'm scared Marcus. I don't want to wait anymore but what if we are rushing into things?"

"Uh, I don't know. Does it really matter at this point?"

"Yes, it matters. If we take that step, and things between us don't work out, nothing will be the same. Don't you understand?" I took his hand, our fingers intertwining. "You're my best friend, and I almost lost you over some stupid guy at a party. Yes, I know it was my fault, but you get my point, right?"

"Yeah, I feel you. We don't have to take the leap if you're not ready for it, whatever makes you comfortable. But honestly, whether we make things official or not, it won't change anything. I mean, we already fuss and fight, and kiss and make up like couples do anyway. And my feelings for you only get stronger by the day."

"I know, but I don't want to break your heart and ruin this."

He cupped my chin, his eyes staring searchingly into mine. "I get that you're afraid," he said softly. "But we can only go forward from here Sitara. We're both in this too deep already."

"You're right," I frowned. "Sorry I said anything."

"Nah, don't be. I'm glad you let me know how you were feeling. Communication saves relations girl."

"No, I'm just being difficult, as always." I reclined back onto the comfort of my pillows. "I don't know how you can deal with all my crap."

"Now you're just being dramatic." He stole a furtive glance at my vulnerable body lying before him. "You ain't that bad. Well, there was that one time when you slapped the shit out of me, but I deserved it—"

"Hey, what were you looking at a second ago?" I asked.

"W-what?" He swallowed deeply. "Uh, nothing."

"You were totally checking me out, weren't you?"

A sheepish grin spread across his handsome face. "You caught me. You're so damn fine girl, I find myself staring at you all the time."

"You can do more than just look, silly."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." I parted my legs slightly, licking my lips. "Is there something, or somewhere specific you want to touch?"

His gaze darted to my breasts, and slowly lowered between my legs, his eyes smoldering with intensity. "I'm uh, not sure where to start. I see a lot of things I want to touch."

I giggled, his hesitation was always so adorable. "Well, what are you waiting for? I don't know whether we're finally going steady or not, but what I do know is, you're special to me. I trust you, more than anyone. You don't have to hold back anymore."

Marcus climbed on top of me, his full lips brushed over my neck lightly. Slowly, he planted a tantalizing trail of delicate kisses down my jawline to my collarbone. "I can be your best friend," he murmured between each soft peck. "I can be your boyfriend, your lover, and all of the above, just say the word." His hands clasped my thighs, massaging them gently. "You want me, and I want you baby… so fuck it. Let's make this happen. Let's be together."

"Marcus…" I moaned, shamelessly exposing my neck to him. His sweet kisses eventually became much more passionate, his tongue glided over my skin, teeth nibbling lightly. My breath quickened, the pleasure caused my entire body to flush with warmth.

My phone began vibrating and ringing like mad again.

"You picking that up?" Marcus asked.

"Hell no," I grumbled. "Let it ring."

He gripped my hips, pressing me to him, our bodies molding together. We grinded on one another, the hot stiffness in the crotch of his jeans rhythmically rubbing up against me had my core boiling with heat.

Marcus' palm smoothed along my side to my breast, his fingertips teased my nipple tenderly through the cotton of my shirt. His other hand settled between my legs, touching the wetness of my core through my damp shorts.

His sensual caresses comforted me in ways words never could. He sucked and fondled my swollen flesh for what felt like forever, and all I could do was writhe under his powerful body, gasps and involuntary moans escaping my lips from the pleasure. I ached for him. I wanted him so bad.

"Marcus, please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "Please, I can't take it anymore…"

He smirked. "What was that? Speak up girl."

I tugged at the waistband of his jeans. "Stop being such a tease."

"Come again? I can't hear you."

"You're such a douche."

He laughed, and pulled away, peeling his sweater off. My eyes admired his bare, beautifully sculpted chest as he worked on removing my shorts. I ran my hands over the hard, chiseled planes of his abdomen. Once my shorts were off and out of the way, he dipped low, his tongue swirled over my inner thigh.

He gazed at me, his face inching closer and closer to my core. I squirmed nervously. "H-hey…" I tapped his broad shoulder.

He froze, his brows furrowed with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Come back up here." I opened my arms to him.

He followed my demand, coming nose to nose with me. "Oral ain't your thing, huh?"

"Well, I've never tried it before. It's just embarrassing having your face down there, you know? I feel like your staring."

"I was staring. You're beautiful Sitara, don't be shy."

"It's hard not to be."

"Well, you can blindfold me if you want. Might make you feel more comfortable."

"What?" I chuckled. "No, it wouldn't. Can't we get all sexy the old fashion way? And gradually work our way up to the kinky stuff?"

"Of course girl. Anything you want." He pecked my lips. "How long do we have before Wrench gets here?"

I glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand. "Crap. Only about ten minutes."

"Shit. I can't make love to you in ten minutes."

"We can probably fit in a quickie."

"Tempting, but nah, our first time can't be a quickie. That's just wrong girl. Nope, I rather wait. I can still take care of you though. Granted, we can just chill and cuddle instead. I'm always down for that."

"Cuddling sounds nice, but what's the alternative?"

"Well, my hands are good for more than just hacking. They're kinda stiff right now though. I can use the exercise."

I nodded. "Okay handsome. Work your magic."

He flashed me a warm smile. "Alright, I promise I won't stare. Just lay back and let me take care of you."

I did exactly as he said, repositioning my head more comfortably on my pillow and letting out a sigh, the tension in my muscles loosened. His mouth met mine softly, his tongue licked my lips for entry. I wasted little time sucking in its hot length. Our tongues wrestled and pressed against one another passionately in a sloppy kiss.

Marcus settled his hand between my thighs, his thumb stroked my moist folds ever so gently. Gradually, his soft touch advanced to my clit. I let out a deep sigh, my heart raced with anticipation. My temperature sky rocked. I ached to be filled. My body was on fire.

He continued to tease and massage my wet, swollen tightness for a moment longer. I squirmed impatiently, biting my lips.

"Marcus," I shivered. "Come on… I need you."

His finger slid inside me tortuously slow. Two more penetrated me soon after, filling my core and stretching me open. Toes curling, I gasped, my muscles tightening. I raked my nails across his smooth, muscular back, and buried my face in his neck, muffling my whimpers.

He began to thrust into me at a moderate pace. I wrapped my legs around him, my hips riding his fingers.

His free hand slipped under my shirt, squeezing and fondling my breast tenderly. His rhythmic thrusts picked up the pace, his fingers drilling inside me. The intensity of his thumb working my clit in firm circles as he fingered me sent jolts of pleasure throughout my core.

The overwhelming sensation ignited my insides, spiraling me toward an orgasm. Pleasurable aches and spasms spread from my core, and out to my extremities, causing them to flush and tingle.

"Talk to me girl," he demanded, his voice husky. "You like it right there?"

"Yes!" I yelled, my muffled voice quaking. "Don't stop! God, it feels so fucking good Marcus."

"Come for me baby." His tongue glided over the hollow of my throat sensually.

I shuddered, pleasure engulfed my body, flooding me with sensation. The tension building within me reached its peak, and I was swept up in ecstasy, all my thoughts and worries faded into nothingness. I rocked against his thrusting fingers, riding out my orgasm.

The intensity of my climax left me limp and boneless. A state of deep relaxation, contentment and peace gripped me. Everything felt so right, and for the life of me, I wouldn't let Marcus go, even after his fingers withdrew from me, my arms wrapped securely around his neck.

"Sitara?" He asked. "You okay?"

"You're too good to me." I muttered. "I owe you now."

"Nah, you don't owe me a thing. If there's ever anything I can do to make you feel good, the pleasure is all mine." He licked my juices from his fingers shamelessly.

I shuddered. "Wow… Did that taste okay?"

"Mhmm. You taste sweet girl."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Damn, I wish we had more time. I'd be down for a round two, just to get another taste."

I giggled shyly. "Marcus?"

"What's up?"

I pecked his strong, stubbled jawline, and gazed into his soft brown eyes. He was so amazing, the best thing a girl could ever ask for. All these feelings I had for him— it couldn't be infatuation, or lust. My adoration ran too deep, and felt too real. It had to be love. It had to be. "I…" I paused, my voice cracked with emotion.

He smiled sweetly. "What is it baby?"

"I love—"

 ** _Knock. Knock. Knock._**

Frantic pounding on the front door of my apartment stole our attention. "Let me in!" Wrench's voice called out urgently from the other side. "Hurry!"

"What the Hell?" I flinched. "Impatient much?" I snatched my shorts from the side of the bed and slipped them on.

"Can you get that?" Marcus asked, grabbing his sweater. "I gotta wash my hands."

"Sure."

He took off for the bathroom. I crawled out of bed and unlocked the door. Wrench charged inside, his spiked jacket, blue denim jeans and sinewy, tattooed arms was coated in crimson red.

"W-Wrench?" I stammered, backing away. He had dried up blood all over him, someone else's I had guessed, he didn't appear to be wounded. "What in the world happened?"

* * *

 **Ten chapters down! We've come a long way together, how are you guys enjoying the story so far? Let me know!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger warning! This chapter contains sensitive material, including mass shootings. If you find such material to be offensive, please skip this chapter. You've been warned.**

* * *

 **Marcus**

I stared blankly at my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. It was weird, I looked completely normal— no visible signs of exhaustion, but on the inside, I felt so physically drained, maintaining my stance was a struggle.

I was tired as hell. I needed sleep.

For as long as I could remember, every night before bed was an endless battle of opposing thoughts. There were days where my tiredness came in both forms, physically and mentally, but it was rare. See, it was usually my body that needed rest, but not my mind. It'd keep running and running, repeatedly reminding me that time waited for no one— I could be doing much more important things than lounging about. More often than not, I'd give into my thoughts and pull an all-nighter.

Tonight was different however. Usually I could go on for days without sleep, provided I had the aid of caffeinated substances. But coffee wasn't helping, and neither were naps. None of my old methods seemed to replenish my energy. My movements were languid and clumsy; my insides numb like a zombie.

I studied the exhausted man staring back in the mirror. I appeared to be okay, at least I had that going for me. But something was off.

Honestly, I didn't feel like myself. That night I spent trapped in a cellar a month ago must had done something to me, the damage ran deeper than just physical scars. Not that I had much to show for it, my fractured bones had healed back stronger; the bruises, cuts and lacerations were nothing more than faded scars now. No one would be able to discern all the shit I went through based off sight alone.

I couldn't recall much of the events anyhow. I could remember only bits and pieces. It was as if my brain had buried the memories deep down, maybe as a coping mechanism, or something. The same happened with Horatio, I subconsciously pushed the guilt of his death aside, to focus on taking down Blume. And once I did, it all came rushing back in like a waterfall, flooding me with the pain, sorrow and remorse of not being able to save him when he needed me most. So I partied non-stop, alcohol and drugs flushed the negative emotions away.

Maybe I'd be alright by morning. I wanted to be okay for Sitara, I didn't want her to worry about me anymore. That girl was always worrying, poor thing. I knew the uncertainty of my well-being constantly gnawed at her heart. I just wanted my baby to be happy, so I've been doing my best trying to hide my fatigue, but I was barely running on fumes now—

"This is war!" Wrench's voice boomed through the apartment. "Those motherfuckers!"

"Calm down, Wrench!" Sitara yelled. "What the Hell happened?"

Curious of the commotion, I dragged myself out of the bathroom, and into Sitara's bedroom. Wrench stood before her, his black studded jacket and faded blue jeans drenched in blood. There was so much…

The gory sight of him caused one of the many hazy memories I had buried deep down to emerge from the depths of my mind. There was a woman trapped in the cold, dark cellar with us. She was tied to a chair, covered in her own blood. The deep incisions carved into her pale, frail body, the shallow breaths she took, the hopeless pleading she made to me as she teetered on the brink of death— I remembered it so well.

She was undoubtedly one of the many who had been kidnapped. But I couldn't save her. She was too far gone, her punctured eye socket pooled with blood, bleeding profusely. It ran down her cheekbones, dripping from her chin onto her clothes, droplets staining my hands as I tried to free her from her restraints.

It was hopeless. I couldn't even save myself. Things had escalated so quickly; everything had gone so horribly wrong…

Unable to get her mutilated face out of my head, I sagged down onto the bed, gazing blankly at the white ceiling.

"We were fucking ambushed!" Wrench shouted, tugging off his bloodied jacket and tossing it aside in a fit of rage. "There were snipers on the rooftop. The fuckers started unloading shots on our people at the party, popping heads like ripe fucking watermelons. It was a massacre!"

Sitara stared at him incredulously. "W-what? That's crazy—"

"Don't believe me?" He whipped out his phone, his unsteady, blood-stained fingers tapped on the screen frantically. After a moment or two, he passed it to her. "Take a load of this."

A woman's voice erupted from the device's speakers. "This is WKZ TV live special report, to update you on the situation if you're just now joining us. At least six dead, thirty injured, many of those injuries severe after multiple gunmen armed with military grade weaponry opened fire on civilians at Salty Bay beach in San Francisco, California, less than an hour ago. Details are limited at the moment as the investigation is underway, but we have multiple unverified reports that the shooting took place during a highly publicized event hosted by the infamous hacker group DedSec—"

Josh appeared, stealing my attention from the broadcast. He slipped through the open front door of the apartment, laptop in hand. He passed me a weak nod as a greeting and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

The news reporter continued. "San Francisco police are at the scene of the massacre, where there is apparently an all-out manhunt underway for the gunmen, who are still at large and on the run. Investigators have few clues of where the gunmen may have fled, but they are warning the public to be on the lookout, as they are armed and dangerous…"

I listened to as much of the broadcast as I could, my stomach hardened as I took in the information. Reluctantly, my attention eventually returned to the woman's maimed, disfigured face. It continuously gnawed at the back of my mind. How did she survive the torture for so long? What if she didn't die?

"What the fuck," Sitara voice snapped me back to reality. "Six people dead? Thirty injured? How the Hell did you and Josh make it out of there alive?"

"We got lucky," Wrench's gaze dropped to the floor. "I rather not get into the nitty-gritty of how we escaped, it wasn't pretty. One of the DedSec members we lost was an old friend of mine."

"I'm so sorry," Sitara mumbled. "How many of the confirmed deaths were our people?"

"All six were ours, mostly scouts and green hat hackers," Josh stated, his eyes twitched with anxiety as his fingers swiftly mashed down on the keys of his laptop. "They were targeting DedSec members specifically. Someone's retaliating against us."

"Oh my God," she shook her head, beginning to pace about the room. "They've crossed the line. This is sick. What did we ever do to deserve retaliation this extreme?"

"We need to find out who the fuck did this," Wrench grumbled, glancing at Josh. "We have to find out everything about them, names, addresses, social security numbers, everything."

"How?" Josh asked. "We have nowhere to start. The police haven't identified the shooters, and we have too many enemies to try and narrow down our options. I can name dozens of gangs, corporations and tech giants we've angered in the past. Even the FBI are after us."

"What was I thinking?" Sitara mumbled to herself as she paced. "We should have been prepared for this."

"Sitara, this isn't your fault," Wrench argued. "How could any of us had seen this coming? Sure we have enemies, but retaliating with a mass shooting? This is next level shit, no one's ever gone after us this hard before. It feels like we're in a gritty crime movie now."

"What are we going to do?" Josh asked. "We need an actual plan, something that makes sense."

"If only we could find out a name, we can trace it back to whoever ordered the hit on us." Wrench said. "Then we can fill em' with bullet holes, like the Bolivian cartel did to Tony Montana."

"We don't have that many bullets to spare," Josh said.

"Jesus guys," Sitara snapped. "Screw the bullets, we're not a gang. And we're not crazy, egotistical drug lords either. We don't have soldiers, thugs, or goons armed to the teeth with guns, willing to go to war with our rivals and die for us. We're just hackers."

"Scarface reference aside, some of us are more than just hackers," Wrench said. "We're vigilantes. Do you remember what we did a month ago? What you did a month ago? You killed a murderer."

"I'm not proud of what I did," she frowned. "I had to. If I didn't, Marcus wouldn't be here right now."

"Speaking of M," Wrench gazed at me. "What's up dude? Why are you so quiet? We need a plan. Help us figure something out, like you always do. We're all drawing blanks here."

"I don't have a plan man," I mumbled.

"So you're just gonna lay there and not say anything at all?" His mask went blank. "Do you even care about what happened? That some of our members— our friends, were killed?"

"Of course I care."

"You sure as fuck aren't acting like it. Did you lose your mojo while you were in that coma? Where's the old M? The one who would go through Hell and back to defend us?"

Without a word, I grimaced, scrubbing a hand over my face. I honestly didn't have an answer. My burnt-out brain was still processing what was going on, and whether I had the strength, or even the drive, to do something about the vendetta against us.

Maybe I did lose my mojo. For the first time ever, I just wanted to disappear, to get away from all my problems, especially the death and bloodshed. It seemed to be following me wherever I went, shadowing my every step. The nightmare started when I lost Horatio. Was it ever going to end?

I had to bury my afflictions, the team needed me. But how could I? In my current state, I was more of a liability than an asset. My body and mind wasn't up to par. Everything was still cloudy, as if I was observing the world through fogged lenses, struggling to piece together the events unfolding around me— unable to identify the small details, and complexity of the situation we were facing.

Josh closed his laptop, and jammed his hands into his armpits, hugging himself. "We're way in over our heads. This isn't going to end well for us."

"We're going to be fine, Josh." Sitara sat beside him, and rubbed his shoulder gently. "We're going to figure this out. The cops will capture the creeps who opened fire on our people anytime now. For now, let's keep a low profile and see how things play out."

"Seriously? That's the plan?" Wrench's hand balled into fists. "Look at me! I'm practically fucking drenched in the blood of our friends, who have just got their brains blown out all over the fucking pavement." Veins budging with anger, he pounded his fist against the wall. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for them to ambush us again. They know who we are guys. Out of everyone at the party, the snipers killed DedSec members only. They must be trained professionals, you have to be experienced to pull off clear, accurate shots like that at a crowded party, right? How do you know they won't stop until we're all rotting six feet under, being fed on by maggots and—"

"Wrench, that's enough!" Sitara snapped. She hugged Josh's quaking body close, as he anxiously rocked himself back and forth in her arms. "Calm down, you're scaring Josh."

Wrench folded his arms across his chest. "Fuck being scared, we should be furious. Get a grip Joshy-boy, and let's cornhole these motherfuckers, before they cornhole us, again."

"W-we need to get to the hackerspace," Josh scrambled into a stance. "I need my equipment. I can monitor WKZ's live broadcasts for updates on who the shooters might be. We should hack the security cameras around the beach's perimeter, rewinding the time codes and scouring the footage might give us a clue."

"Now we're talking Josh!" Wrench fist pumped the air with enthusiasm. "At least someone here gives two shits about what's going on."

"Will you quit it already?" Sitara glared at him. "We all care, alright? Things may seem bleak now, but we're going to get through this like we always do, as a team. We can't turn against each other."

Wrench shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. Someone has to hack the access points of the security cameras and send the data back to Josh, so he can rewind the time codes. Problem is, none of us can get close enough to pull it off, not with police and the media flooding the crime scene. I'm gonna take Josh back to the hackerspace, get a change of clothes and some sleep. Come morning, I'll head out to get the footage we need."

"Marcus and I will meet you at the hackerspace before you leave, so the three of us can go together. It's not safe for any of us to be out and about alone."

Wrench nodded, and quickly made his departure, Josh following at his heels.

Sitara gravitated to the front door and shut it, securing the locks behind them. She turned, abruptly pressing her back against the wall. Slowly, she sagged down onto the floor, hands hanging limply over her knees.

"Think Wrench will be alright?" I asked, still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"He will." Sitara murmured. "He's stronger than most of us. This won't break him. Sometimes I wonder if anything can."

"Do you think she's dead?"

"Who?"

"The woman who was trapped in the cellar with us."

"I don't know." She frowned. "The police are still searching for bodies, they haven't found any yet, besides the two murderers we put down. All the missing people around the bay area still haven't been found." She let out a stiff laugh. "It's ridiculous. After all the evidence we turned over from that awful, forgotten house, you would think that investigators would have cracked the case by now. But nope, the FBI and the San Francisco police department claim to be still in the dark, chasing shadows."

"Fuck," I mumbled. "We should of have known better. The SFPD is hopeless, they couldn't find their own assholes with a magnifying glass and a map."

"I couldn't agree more. Wrench thinks they're making progress, but I think he's being naïve. Cops are fucking useless; they can't do a damn thing without public watch dogs holding their hands. Wouldn't be surprised if they were in on it themselves. They've turned a blind eye to gang activity and corporate corruption for years now, who's to say they wouldn't throw the missing person cases under the rug too?"

She sat there, as still as a statue, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. "If only they went after gang members, drug traffickers and murderers like they do with hackers. People wouldn't be dying left and right, I bet the streets would be as clean as a whistle. Depending on the cops to catch the gunmen responsible for killing our people? Tough fucking luck, they're probably throwing a donut party right now as we speak, six less hackers for them to worry about."

She paused for a moment in quiet contemplation, her eyes grazing the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder, after everything we've done… if we all were to die, would the world even give a damn? I doubt they would. No one cares about the people that have gone missing either. Everyone is content living their simple lives, happily unaware of poor, homeless, and less fortunate souls being snatched off street, disappearing right before their eyes, never to be seen again. Just like Thomas Gray said, 'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'"

As much as I would had loved to engage in a deep conversation with Sitara, everything she was saying was going through one ear and out the other. I didn't have the mental acuity to keep up with that big, beautiful brain of hers' tonight. Hopefully listening, or trying to listen rather, would be enough.

Tears brimmed on her long eyelashes, dipping onto her high cheekbones. "What if Josh is right?" She asked, lips trembling. "We're in over our heads, we've never dealt with anything like this before."

I watched the tears descend Sitara's face, my chest caving in. I hated to see her hurting, but I knew she had to let it out, holding it in always did more harm than good.

She used to carry herself with an air of strength, and assurance whenever we were together, as if she could handle anything the world threw at her. However, there was so much sadness in her eyes lately, I could see it even when she masked it behind the pretty smiles and cute laughter.

She was fragile. I wasn't sure if it was due to all the bad shit that's been thrown at us recently, or whether she was always this sensitive and emotional, merely letting down her walls for me to see who she truly was deep down inside. Her feelings were justified, no doubt, I was scared too. But she didn't hide it like I did, she trusted me enough to show me her pain.

I was flattered, although technically, it was my job to listen and support her. I was a taken man now, no more wild parties, one night stands or getting drunk and high at the same time. I had to put that crazy shit behind me if I wanted what we had to last. I needed a new coping mechanism. Maybe having a shoulder to lean on and someone to confide every now and then would do the trick.

Although, letting down my walls and rendering myself vulnerable scared the shit out of me. But if she was willing to tear down her defenses for me, then she deserved someone who would at least try to return the favor. Right now though, all I wanted to do was cuddle and go to sleep.

"Talk to me Marcus?" She asked sweetly, her tone much softer than usual. "I need you to say something, anything. I'm scared for us."

"Why are you on the floor girl?" I reached out to her. "Come here."

"No, I don't wanna," she shook her head. "This is my safe place. When I'm feeling like total crap, I just wanna sit here on this cold floor and be miserable."

"Why? It's comfy over here, we can be miserable together. I miss you."

"If you miss me so much, then come and get me."

"Nuh-uh, I'm tired."

"Clearly you don't miss me that much," she smirked, and climbed to her feet. "I need a drink, tonight has been such an emotional roller coaster. I can't deal with all of this, I feel like I'm about to lose my fucking mind."

Sitara turned away and took off down the narrow hall. I reluctantly rose from the bed, and jogged after her, playfully locking my arms around her slender waist and sweeping her off her feet. Trapped in my embrace, she let out a yelp of surprise, followed by involuntary, bubbly laughter.

She wiggled and squirmed for freedom, but to no avail. "Let me go jerk!"

"Nope! You're mine now." I carried her back to the bedroom, and dropped her on the bed. Determined to escape, she tried to crawl away on all fours. I latched onto the waistband of her shorts, holding her in place.

"Oh my God, I'm not a toy, Marcus. You can't manhandle me like this."

"You're a big girl, you can take it."

"Douche," she grumbled.

"Can't help it, I get grumpy when I'm tired."

"So go to sleep already."

"Not without you."

"You're so clingy."

"You know you like it." Still clenching onto the waistband of her shorts, I pulled her toward me.

"Marcus!" Sitara whined cutely. "Let go of me right now, or so help me God, I will kick your ass."

"You better start kicking girl, cause' I ain't letting go."

Giggling, she reached out, her soft hand slapped my face gently.

I smiled. "Was that supposed to hurt?"

"That was a warning shot, jerk. Get off, or the next one is really gonna hurt."

"Doubt it. Bet you won't do it again—"

With little delay or restraint, she raised a palm to my face once more, faster and harder this time, like a whip. The hit caused a sharp, stinging pang in my cheek. "Not bad," I snorted, laughing off the pain. "That kinda hurt."

"Wait a second…" She smirked. "You like this, don't you?"

"Maybe." I finally set her free, and collapsed on the bed, letting out a drawn-out yawn and closing my eyes. "It's cute when you're frisky, but I can't take anymore abuse right now. All I want is some sleep, and maybe a little lovin' too, if I'm lucky?"

Sitara's slender frame gravitated close, and hovered over me. Her warm, minty breath on my neck, the tip of her button nose softly rubbed mine. The random Eskimo kiss forced a fleeting, tingling sensation throughout my weary body. I beamed, her silver hoop septum ring tickled my nostrils.

Her plump lips lowered to my jawline, where she began to plant a downward trail of subtle, feather-light kisses. I remained perfectly still while she explored my neck with the small, chaste pecks, laced with hesitation and shyness. It was as if this level of intimacy was brand new to her.

Contrary to her usual fiery, assertive persona, she seemed to be more modest and submissive in the bedroom. Not that I minded, her coy advances and overall meekness served as a refreshing change of pace from the women I had dated in the past. Most of my previous relationships were casual anyhow, based solely on sexual gratification with no strings attached.

Those types of relationships never ended well for me. In my experience, they were dysfunctional, ticking time bombs, where one of us would undoubtedly start falling for the other, only for those feelings not to be reciprocated, and it all crashed and burned from there. It's a vicious cycle, I've seen it too many times.

With Sitara, it was different. What we had wasn't built strictly on lust. The bond we had was something real, and it took a Hell of a long time to build. We had our pitfalls, but the work we put in to climb out of them was worth it. I was young, and reckless at times, but I wasn't naïve. I knew the feelings I had for her only came around once in a lifetime, and that was only if you're lucky.

I actually dozed off a couple times in between her tentative, delicate caresses. It was hard not to, usually I had trouble sleeping in the summer due to the heat, but the temperature in here was nice and chilly thanks to the air conditioner. Sitara's body heat was an added bonus, she made everything feel just right.

Although, her kisses kept pulling me back to my senses after a moment or two. It was a little frustrating, considering how damn tired I was, but at the same time, I didn't want her to stop. I liked the attention.

"Marcus? Are you awake?" Sitara asked. Her lips brushed over the corner of my mouth.

"Mhmm," I mumbled sleepily.

"I know you're tired hun, but can you stay up a little longer, for me?" She asked sweetly. "I just got you back handsome, and I don't want this to end. You're such a good distraction from everything. Nothing relieves my stress and worries like you do."

After a long, languorous stretch, I managed to open my eyes. "Sure baby, whatever you need." I smoothed my fingers through her beautifully thick, recently washed hair. Her dark, damp strands were heavy, like a silky weight, and cool to the touch. "Today's been tough. You hanging in there okay?"

"Barely. I'm trying to hold it together. But I'm so scared. I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread here. Bad things just keep happening, one after another…" Voice cracking, she paused momentarily to regain her composure. "It'll only get worse from here; I can feel it—"

"Shh," I cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Don't think like that Sitara. It ain't good for team morale. You need to get your head in the right mental space, so we can get shit done tomorrow. I know it's hard, but you have to find a way."

"I didn't sign up to be kidnapped, or for my friends to be killed when I joined DedSec, Marcus."

"Should have read the fine print, girl. It's dangerous to rebel against the rich and powerful, people are killed on the daily for much less. I put my life on the line countless times trying to make a difference in this world. It ain't easy, but someone's gotta do it."

"How do you do it? After everything you've been through, how do you stay so strong?"

"Hmm," I furrowed my brows. "Well, underprivileged, and constantly struggling to make ends meet in this fucked world, I spent most of my life just going with the notions. That is, until I joined DedSec— until I met you, Wrench and Josh. I realized how amazing it feels to help those who are underprivileged like me, who don't have a voice, or the ability, nor the access to the necessary evils needed stand up to the pretentious fucks stepping all over them."

She sniffed. "I guess it does feel good, when we actually win. Do you think we will this time?"

"Don't we always?" I tucked the long strands of her hair gone astray behind her ears, and kissed away the salty, dried tearstains on her face.

"But we don't even know who or what we're up against. I just don't get how you're so levelheaded right now."

"Nah, I ain't levelheaded. If I was, I'd probably be a lot less calm right now, plotting and fanatically brainstorming our next move. Instead, I'm just existing, over here feeling fatigued and brain fried. I know we're in deep shit, and I should be doing something about it besides lying here, but I'm running on fumes baby. I don't have it in me to figure out what to do from here. I don't the energy to do much at all actually. I'm a fucking waste of space."

"Stop being so hard on yourself. You've just woken up from a coma not long ago, remember? You can do amazing things Marcus, but don't forget that you're only human, okay?"

I nodded weakly. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay, I'm going to quit bothering you and let you sleep." She carefully slipped off my glasses, and gently set it down on the nightstand, beside the bright lamp illuminating the room. I peeled off my sweater, and Sitara snuggled close to me, her head resting on my chest, our bodies entwined. "Are you comfortable like this? Do you need the lights off?"

"Yeah, I got it." I clicked off the lamp, cloaking the space in darkness. "Night baby."

"Night handsome."

* * *

I woke up to the blazing gold rays of the July sun, the strong streaks of light penetrated the window and shined into my face, practically blinding me. I winced and rolled over, shoving a pillow over my head.

It felt like a damn sauna in here, which was odd. Despite the summer heat, Sitara's tiny apartment was always cool, and well ventilated. Maybe the air conditioner is broken, although it seemed to be doing its job perfectly fine last night.

The humidity became unbearable after a while. It kept getting hotter and hotter. My throat was as dry as sand paper, and my stomach was growling like crazy. Irritated, I flung my pillow away, and stole a peek at Sitara. She seemed to be sleeping just fine, her body bundled and wrapped tightly within a warm cocoon of bed sheets, stealing all the covers to herself. How the Hell did she sleep so peacefully in these conditions? I was sweating bricks.

"Sitara?" I gave her a nudge. "Wake up, girl. Ain't you hot with all those covers on?"

"No," she murmured, half asleep. "It's freezing."

I furrowed my brows. She must be joking.

I slipped on my glasses and slowly began to rise from the bed. A severe, throbbing pain gripped both sides of my head the moment I sat up. And to make matters worse, the room seemed to be spinning around and around nonstop, leaving me unbalanced and nauseous, as if I had just gotten off the craziest roller coaster ever.

I grimaced, clutching my aching head. "Fuck me…"

Sitara chuckled. "Isn't it too early for that?"

I fell back onto the bed, the pain and discomfort to severe for me to stand. Fuck, it hurt so bad. Why was it so hot? What was happening to me? This type of shit wasn't normal. I've never had a migraine like this before. Why the fuck was the room spinning?"

"S-Sitara…" I muttered weakly. It was a struggle to speak, as if I had forgotten how to articulate and frame sentences aloud overnight. "A brother bout' to have… a God damn… heat stroke up in here."

Sitara began to rouse from her slumber, lazily peeling off the mass of blankets draped around her. "Are you okay?" I shook my head. She scooted close, studying me intently through half-lidded eyes, her brows narrowed. "You don't look so good, hun. What's wrong?" She touched a palm to my forehead. "Jeez, why are you sweating so much?"

She abruptly skipped from the bed and darted down the hall, returning a moment later with a wet cloth. "I need you to talk to me, Marcus." Lightly, she dabbed my face, cleansing away the sweat and impurities. "You need to tell me everything that's wrong, so I can try and help make it all better, okay? How bad are you feeling? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"Burning," I mumbled. "Head hurts, room spinning… hungry, thirsty, tired…"

"When's the last time you ate?"

"Don't know."

"Did you drink anything yesterday?"

"Coffee."

"How much?"

"A few sips."

"How did you feel after you drank it? Did it give you any energy?" I shook my head. My tongue was growing numb. "Stay there. I'll be right back." She disappeared into the hall again.

My heart hammered against my chest— the realization that I was gradually losing more and more of my ability to speak and articulate myself, had started to sink in. For the life of me, I couldn't piece together what was going on, or why the fuck it was happening in the first place. I was trying to keep my cool, but I wasn't sure how much more of this shit I could take. It felt like a bomb had exploded within me, burning my organs from the inside out.

Sitara came back in a hurry, with a large, blue colored sport drink in one hand, and a quickly prepped turkey sandwich in the other. "I need you to sit up so you can drink and eat, okay?" She clasped my arm and very slowly, I managed to perch myself up, her hold helped me maintain my balance. Her manicured fingers twisted off the bottle cap. "Chug the whole thing down, it'll make you feel better."

I wasn't sure how it would possibly help, but I was too thirsty to care. I snatched the bottle and guzzled down the entirety of the cold, blue sugary liquid, in a matter of seconds. I hastily devoured the turkey sandwich right after, like it was the last bit of food left on Earth. And damn, did it hit the spot.

Sitara climbed onto the bed and appeared behind me. Her soft hands grasped my shoulders, guiding my head down into her lap. Tenderly, she caressed my aching temples, massaging them in light, circular motions. Her gentle touch did wonders to relieve the intensity of my migraine. With my stomach finally at ease, and my throat slowly regaining its usual moisture, it was a little easier to relax.

The searing heat incinerating my insides, and the numbness in my mouth, faded within minutes. The cloudy haze that's been distorting my perception, and ability to think and reason, dissipated soon after. Curious of what the Hell just happened, and how things led up to here, I shared my thoughts aloud with Sitara.

"So I was feeling fatigued all day yesterday," I said. "I didn't eat anything, but I had some coffee."

"Clearly not enough of it," she responded. "That wonderful brain of yours needs more than just sleep to function, it needs glucose too. If your blood sugar gets too low, you can go into shock, have a seizure, or worse."

"I don't have diabetes girl."

"Doesn't mean you don't need your carbs. Remember my niece, Cindy? She used to skip meals too, starving herself to keep her body in shape for that stupid live stream, where she does nothing but shake her hiney for the world to see." She sighed. "I was with her the day her blood sugar had dropped dangerously low. Besides the bad mood swings, like worse than normal for a teenager, you had a lot of the same symptoms she did."

"So that's how you knew I needed carbs, huh?"

"Yep. Everything is good in moderation, including sugary drinks and sandwiches."

"Maybe the basement dweller diet ain't so bad after all. Think you can get me another sandwich and a soda mom?"

"I'm not your mom, Marcus," Sitara snapped. "Stop implying that I am, it isn't funny anymore. Actually, it was never funny in the first place." She pulled away, the comforting massage ending abruptly.

I grinned. That joke never failed to push her buttons. "Aw, don't be like that baby. I was just playin'."

"Shut up." She strolled over to her closet and scoured through her neatly arranged, colorful wardrobe for an outfit. "If you want more food, get it yourself. Everything you need is in the kitchen. Think you can manage that? I have to go meet Wrench at the hackerspace."

"Don't you mean 'we'?" I rose to my feet, only to realize the room was still spinning, and keeping my balance was just as much of a challenge as earlier.

Sitara appeared before me, her hands clutched my shoulders, stopping my fall. "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Stay here. Me, Josh and Wrench can handle things from here."

"So I'm supposed to just hang back and do nothing while y'all handle business? Nah, fuck that. I have to do something—"

"Marcus, this isn't up for debate, you can barely walk. The sooner you stop fighting me on this, the faster you'll recuperate, and the faster you'll be back on your feet. Make sense?"

As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. I wasn't cool with the idea of her and the team running ops without me, but in this state, I was more of a liability than an asset. Maybe if I focused on getting some rest, I might bounce back to my old self soon. Man, why did she have to be right all the time? "Alright, guess I'll just be chillin' here then. Gimme' some love before you go?"

She leaned in, her toned, graceful arms wrapped around my neck. I clasped her waist. We held each other lightly at first. Our bodies gradually drew close, pressing together in a passionate embrace, chest to chest, thighs snuggling. I didn't want her to leave, but I knew she had to. Taking in one final whiff of the clean, citrus scent rising from her skin, I kissed her forehead and reluctantly pulled away.

I gazed into her delicate brown eyes. "Don't leave me hanging here by myself for too long girl. Come back to me, alright?"

"Don't worry so much, that's my job." She planted a quick peck on my lips. "I'll be back before you know it. Keep your phone close so I can check in with you every now and then. And don't forget to eat and drink like a normal person. I think you should go cold turkey on the coffee too, your caffeine addiction can't be healthy. You and Wrench should try substituting all the coffee and beer for water every once in a while—"

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Speaking of Wrench, isn't he waiting for you?"

"Yeah, I'm running super late now. He's not gonna be happy."

"Right, so you should probably get going girl. Unless you wanna stay here and lecture me about my shit dieting habits, which is cool with me."

"Trust me, you're going to get the meanest lecture when I get back. But before I go anywhere, I need to pick out a proper outfit, its boiling hot outside." She turned away and returned to her closet. "Wrench can wait a little longer."

"Patience ain't really his strong suit. Chances are, he already left without you." I crawled into bed, resting my head against the cool, feathery pillow.

"No biggie, I'll catch up with him."

"Better put on your running shoes then. You're gonna need it."

* * *

 **Poor Marcus just hasn't been himself after that night in the cellar :( Do you guys think he'll bounce back soon? I certainly hope so. Leave a review, let's discuss it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sitara**

Just before I stepped foot outside my apartment, I received a rather cryptic text message from Wrench.

 **Change of plans, I need u 2 meet me somewhere, pronto. Sending u the coords. Bring fruitcake, and electro-shock grenades. I have a box full of them at the hackerspace. Don't forget the cake!**

I grinned at the odd request. What in the world was he up to now? Hopefully he found a lead on the dirt bags who crashed our party last night. They gunned down six of our people, it was a declaration of war.

They were going to regret it. We had to find out who was responsible, so we can hit them back, hard. It was only a matter of time before their names were added to the list of countless idiots who dared to go toe to toe with DedSec, only to fail miserably.

Although, deep down, I was afraid. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt, but I couldn't afford to show my fears. I had to be strong for the team. Marcus was too sick to boost our team morale, and there was no way he could do any fieldwork, he could barely stand. So, the burden fell on Wrench and I's shoulders. We had to find a way to get things done without him.

I picked up the fruitcake from a local grocery store, and then stopped at the hackerspace to pick up the grenades. Wrench had dozens in hidden in an old shoebox beneath his bench, alongside the rest of his countless tools and makeshift devices.

Once I acquired the goods, I followed the coordinates Wrench provided to Silicon Valley. I was led to a shady, red brick alleyway, behind a long row of tall buildings. It was filled with piles of litter and trash bags, and there were homeless people lying on the ground among the filth, their bodies wrapped in ratty blankets. Rats and roaches scurried through the trash bags for food, the sight of it made my skin crawl. And the smell— God, the alley reeked of hot, rotting garbage. It was awful.

Wrench stood at the very end of the narrow alleyway, seemingly unbothered by the foulness surrounding him. He appeared to be tinkering with a ctOS box. I made my way to him, being extra careful to avoid contact with the roaches and rats, the constant squeaking of mice rummaging through the trash had me on edge.

I literally clung to Wrench the moment I reached him.

"Oh, hey there Sitara," his mask lit with two carets at my sudden embrace. "I'm glad to see you too."

"There better be a damn good reason you wanted me to meet you here," I grumbled.

"There sure is. You got the fruitcake and grenades?"

"Yep. Are you gonna fill me in on what's going on, or not?"

"Okay so, you and I are going to pay an old friend of mine a visit. Give me a sec' to patch Josh in through his penthouse's security and surveillance system, and we'll be ready to go."

"Um, mind if I ask why the Hell you and Josh are hacking into your friend's place?"

"It's a long story, Sitara," Josh's voice blurted through my earbuds from the DedSec channel. "Okay Wrench, I'm in. I can see everything. I'm hacking into his computer now, I'll let you know if I find anything interesting."

"Awesome." He shut the ctOS box and grabbed the fruitcake. "Sitara, you hold onto the grenades. Let's go—"

"No," I said. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why we're here, and what we're doing. Let me in on the plan, jumping head first into shit completely blind isn't my style."

"Sitara, the less you know, the better. This guy we're about to meet, he's black market weapon and drug dealer— a complete shit-stain in my opinion, but that's beside the point. He knows things, a lot of things. If there's any hope in finding out who's responsible for killing our people, we start with him. He won't tell us anything unless we play nice though. Trust me, I've got this all figured out. We'll be fine."

"Okay, fine. I've got your back."

"Great. He's waiting for us on the patio of his very fancy, and outlandishly expensive, penthouse suite." Wrench reached up for the fire escape latter hanging overhead, and pulled it down.

"Why are we taking the fire escape? Shouldn't we go inside and take the elevator? He knows we're coming, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but elevators are lame and this way is sonic fast. Come on, let's get this over with."

He climbed the latter with haste, and I reluctantly trailed close behind. It was a long way to the top, and the intensity of the hot summer sun beaming down on us made the trip so much harder.

I didn't like the idea of meeting up with someone in the black market trade, but Wrench seemed confident that it was worth the trouble. I hope he's right. Although, it was best not to throw stones in a glass house— there was a lot shady contacts I kept on speed dial for when I needed information too.

We finally reached the penthouse's patio. It was certainly fancy just like Wrench mentioned— there was a wide, private pool smacked right in the middle of the deck, it's clean blue water sparkled gently beneath the sunlight. There were maids hustling about, sweeping the sleek, marbled floors and tending to the tall, exotic plants aligning the glass railing.

A couple of Umeni guards patrolled the area as well, but they didn't seem to mind our sudden arrival. They took one look at Wrench and went about their business as usual.

It was way more pleasant up here than it was in that alleyway. I couldn't help but think about the homeless people down there. It was hard to fathom how others could live in so much luxury when their neighbors were practically starving, barely surviving day to day. It was sad, no one deserved to live like that.

But when you live in the height of luxury like this, I guess it was easy to forget about everyone else. Why bother with the insignificant problems of the ant-sized people below, when you could waste the day away admiring the stunningly beautiful city skyline instead?

As the maids worked hard to keep the place tidy, there was an old, heavy-set man lounging about by the poolside in a red silk robe, the sun's strong rays illuminated his bald, mottled scalp like a beacon. His skin had an unnatural, deep orange tint, most likely from excessive tanning.

The old man lifted the black shades concealing his blue eyes, and glanced at us. "There you are, Wrenchie-boy! Come, come! I've been waiting for you." He spoke very slow and casually, his voice laced with a thick, Italian accent.

Wrench stole a peek at me. "Just follow my lead," he whispered.

I nodded. We took the man's side. There was a loaded Uzi laid across his silken lap, and a few small bags of a white, powdery substance in the palm of his hand. It had to be cocaine. My muscles tensed. Drugs and loaded guns weren't a good mix; it was a recipe for disaster.

"Still on the nose candy, dude?" Wrench asked. "You're not supposed to get high on your own supply you know."

"Nonsense, this was a freebie from a potential business partner, a gesture of good faith. You'd have to be nuttier than a squirrel on speed to reject a quality gift like this. So, who's your lady friend?"

"Sitara, this is my old buddy, Giovanni. Giovanni, meet Sitara, she's a good friend."

"Nice to meet you," I muttered.

He leered at me for a long while before responding, his beady eyes slowly ran up and down my body shamelessly. My chest caved beneath his hard, obnoxious gaze. The creeper was staring at me like a piece of meat. "The broad isn't half bad on the eyes," he said. "How much do want for her?"

I gasped, my hands balled into fists. I was a second away from tearing off his old, shriveled up balls and hurling them off the roof, but Wrench grasped onto my shoulder, holding me back.

"She's not for sale," Wrench stated.

"Nonsense, everyone has their price," Giovanni replied. "Ten thousand for the girl. Take it or leave it."

"I said she's not—" Wrench paused, his mask blinked with exclamation points. "Wait, did you just say ten thousand?"

My brows furrowed with disbelief. "Seriously Wrench?"

"Holy moly!" Giovanni yelled abruptly, his eyes darting to the fruit cake and grenades we were holding. "Are those beauties for me?"

"Hell yeah they are. It's Christmas in July!" We passed him the fruitcake and grenades.

He smirked, and opened the shoebox, his eyes widening at the sight of the electro-shock devices. "You're a stand-up guy, Wrenchie-boy. It's been what, five years since we last did business? And you haven't forgotten how much I love fruitcake, huh?"

"Wouldn't forget it for the world. Those electro-shock devices are custom made too, courtesy of DedSec."

"I know some connoisseurs who'd be willing to pay top dollar for these little beauties." He put the gifts aside and slowly climbed to his feet. He was much shorter than I realized, the top of his shiny bald head barely reached my chin. If it wasn't for gun in the palm of his hand, he'd look completely harmless.

"So, let's cut the shit, and get down to business, shall we?" Giovanni continued. "I might be old, but I'm not crazy, Wrenchie-boy. You have some nerve waltzing in here, as if everything between us is just fucking peachy. You could give me the whole world on a silver platter with a cherry on top, but it wouldn't change a fucking thing. I don't associate with hackers; you kids are bad for business. DedSec isn't welcome here. Now if you would kindly fuck off so I can get on with my afternoon in peace, that'd be great."

Wrench latched onto the collar of his robe sternly. "Listen here, you pudgy little fucker," he grumbled. "I'm tired of playing nice. You're gonna tell me what I want to know. You owe me."

"Did you forget who's holding the gun here, tough guy?" He asked, pressing the barrel of the Uzi against Wrench's stomach. "Let go of me before I fill your gut with lead."

Wrench hesitantly released him.

"Look, just tell us what we want to know and you'll never see us again," I said. "Please, we're desperate."

"Fine, anything to get you hooligans off my property," Giovanni lowered his gun. "Well? What do you want? Spit it out, I don't got all day."

"Tell us what you know about the mass shooting that went down last night at Salty Bay," Wrench demanded.

"The beach massacre?" He shook his head. "A real shame that was, I heard a lot of your hacker pals got clipped."

"The weapons they used aren't easy to come by," Wrench said. "They were military grade toys. I know all about your dealings with the 580s, the Bratva and Tezcas. You're their lead arms supplier, the only guy with a flawless enough smuggling operation to move hot product like that into San Francisco without a hitch."

"I see you've done your homework, Wrenchie-boy. Listen up, the weapon they used to rub out your pals— it's called the TAC-50. It's a bolt action rifle, fifty caliber. Once upon a time, it was the Cadillac of modern sniper rifles, but they're antiques now, rarities— outdated and no longer manufactured in our technologically advanced day and age."

"What makes you so sure that was the gun?" I asked.

"The thing is, the TAC-50 can make successful shots from over two-thousand yards and beyond, in the right hands of course. It isn't your grandpa's buck rifle, it requires serious skill to pull it off, but it's possible."

"In theory, it makes sense," Josh added. "If the shooters were more than a mile away, it'd explain why none of us could discern where the shots were coming from. There were hundreds of people at the party last night, and not a single eye witness of the gunmen. No wonder the police couldn't find them, two-thousand yards is far too much ground to cover."

"I actually sold a couple models a few days ago, to some wise guy claiming to be a gun connoisseur," Giovanni said. "A business partner referred him to me. He was uh, one of those reserved types, real quiet and cautious, and always wore a fancy getup, black suit and tie. Naturally, I was suspicious of the guy, I figured he was an undercover pig. So, I followed my gut. I gathered a couple of my boys, lured him to a place nice and quiet, and ordered them to gut em' like a fish."

"So you killed him?" Wrench asked.

"Nope. It was a bloodbath. I've seen people get killed before, but this guy— he took it to the next level. He literally bit one of my boys' throat, and tore out his Adam's apple, and then spit the damn thing on the floor. I mean, who has teeth that sharp? This guy was the real deal, I tell ya'. A cold-blooded murderer at its finest. Been having dealings with the guy ever since."

"Sounds like a bad ass. Does this cold-blooded fellow have a name?"

"No can do, Wrenchie-boy. I don't want this leading back to me, I gotta protect my own throat. Sorry, but you kids are on your own."

"No, you have to give us something," Wrench argued. "We're not leaving empty handed."

"Make good on what you owe Wrench, grandpa," I added. "Give us a lead."

A quick, disgusted snort escaped him. "Or what, little lady? What are you going to do?"

"Or, you can kiss this luxury lifestyle of yours good-bye. I'll drag you, and everything you hold dear so deep down into shit, it'll practically be coming out of your eyes." I stepped up to him, and glared into his eyes angrily. "Don't you get it, old man?" I asked calmly, menacingly. "You don't want to be enemies with DedSec. You're no different than the common criminal scum we dispose of on the daily. We will fuck you, and your whole smuggling operation so far into oblivion, you'll be begging us to stop." I pointed at the street down below. "But we won't stop. Not until you're down there, homeless and afraid, pleading for a handout, living among the rats and roaches. And maybe, just maybe, we'll ease up. No guarantees."

He grimaced, sweat rolling down his forehead. His eyes darted from me to Wrench.

"I wouldn't call her bluff, dude," Wrench muttered. "I've seen her screw people over before. It isn't pretty. Just tell us what we wanna know."

"H-he owns a storage warehouse in Marin," he stammered, turning away from us. "I heard there's quite a bit of precious cargo in there. Luckily for you, there's supposed to be some big auction going down there tonight, a lot of important people are gonna be there, him included."

"What kind of auction?" I asked.

"Hell if I know, why don't cha' go poke around and find out for yourself?" He pulled out his phone from the depths of his robe pocket, and began tapping away at the screen. "There, I sent you the address, Wrenchie-boy. Consider us even. Now you and your little lady friend can fuck off. We're done here."

* * *

By the time we made it to Marin, the sun had already begun to dip behind the city's tall rooftops, the blue sky slowly fading into vibrant shades of amber and crimson red.

The storage warehouse Giovanni mentioned was situated in a business district, beside a big, busy street. It was massive, even for a warehouse's standards, stretching wide across the sidewalk. It's sleek, metallic exterior was heavily guarded by armed Umeni security, and the remote access gate was fenced with barbwire. Getting in wasn't going to be easy.

Thankfully, there was a tall, swanky hotel building right across from it. With the help of a nearby forklift, Wrench and I managed to scale the building to the very top. From this high up, we could see the entirety of the fortified warehouse, including the guard patrols, and every single delivery truck that pulled in and out of the facility.

But even at our current elevation above ground, the roar of the multi-lane traffic below was loud and harsh on the ears. Vehicle horns honked noisily as they zipped down the street, tires screeching against the pavement. The annoying ring of police sirens seemed to be never-ending. Being a city girl, I thought I'd be used to the constant commotion of San Francisco by now. It was hard to think with so much going on at once.

"What's up with all these friggin' police sirens?" I scoffed, as I laid prone beside Wrench on the gravelly ground, gazing down over the edge. "It's driving me crazy."

"Dunno." He observed the warehouse below through the lens of binoculars. "Josh, you wouldn't believe how tight security is here. It's like we're trying to infiltrate Fort Knox."

"What do you think is in there?" Josh's monotone voice seeped through my earbuds. "Illegal narcotics? Drug money? Unwarranted tech maybe?"

"Could be all three," I muttered. "We won't know until we get in there though."

"What do you guys think about the tall tale Giovanni told, about the throat ripping dude with the suit?" Wrench asked.

"I hope the neck biting part isn't true," I said. "That's just gross. But if he is in there, we need to find out who he is and what's his beef with DedSec."

"Assuming the information Giovanni gave us is accurate," Josh said. "He could be lying."

"We don't have anything else to go on," Wrench replied. "Giovanni is a grade A shit-stain for sure, but it wouldn't be in his best interest to get on our bad side. He knows we have more than enough resources to destroy him. Sitara spelled it out loud and clear.

"Mind filling us in on how, and why you became friends with creepy grandpa in the first place?" I asked. "Why does he owe you? What did you do for him, huh?"

"Long story, little time," Wrench uttered. "So what's the plan?"

"Can you guys hack in the warehouse's ctOS box?" Josh asked. "If you two can get in close enough to patch me in through the surveillance system, I can get ahold of the facility's blueprints and help you on the inside. Better than going in blind."

"Not yet," Wrench replied. "Giovanni mentioned something about an auction going down inside tonight. Important people are supposed to attend, right? How about we wait until the esteemed guests arrive, and while the guards are distracted, Sitara can patch you in, while I slip inside and plant remote detonated explosives on all their shit? Then we hightail it outta here, and once we're at a safe distance— Bam! We blow all their shit to the moon. Flawless plan, right?"

"Flawless if executed correctly," Josh said. "But brutal. You'd kill everyone there."

"And way too risky," I added. "We're not murderers Wrench. We don't have to stoop down to their level to get revenge. There's other ways to send a message."

"Well how else are we gonna blow up their shit?" Wrench asked. "Wait, we are blowing up their shit, right?"

"Hmm…" My sight drifted to the amber sky in deep thought. "How about… we steal their stuff instead? There's plenty of trucks inside, we can load the most expensive crap inside one of them and make our grand escape on four wheels. Then Wrench can have the luxury of blowing it all to the moon without any unnecessary causalities."

"So we're gonna go all grand theft auto on their asses, huh?" Wrench nodded in approval. "As long as something goes kaboom, I'm a happy camper."

"It's a more reasonable plan," Josh said. "Stealing a truck is going to draw a lot of attention though. You'll need a distraction."

"If only Marcus was here, he'd make the perfect decoy," Wrench muttered. "The guy dodges bullets like he was born for it. By the way, where is he? Wasn't he supposed to be helping us with fieldwork today?"

"He got really sick this morning," I replied.

Wrench gazed at me. "M is sick? How? He seemed fine last night, quieter than usual though."

"His blood sugar dropped dangerously low. It was scary." I frowned, the memory of how sickly he appeared earlier was uncomfortable to remember. "A lot of the severe symptoms disappeared once I forced him to eat, but he's still not in good shape."

"That's weird," Josh replied. "He probably wasn't getting enough glucose in his bloodstream during his stay at the hospital. Bad doctors."

"We should sue those fuckers for negligence," Wrench grumbled. "How do you think he's holding up now?"

"I don't know, I'm gonna call to check up on him." I grabbed my phone from my back pocket of my shorts. The flat screen came to life at a touch of a finger, notifying me of all the calls I missed since this morning. There were ten, all of which were from Cindy. I sighed. Maybe it was an emergency, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to bombard me with calls for no good reason. Meh, I'll get in touch with her later. She could wait—

"Sitara!" Wrench tapped my shoulder. "Look! Filthy rich snobs incoming at twelve o'clock."

"Huh?" I gazed up from my phone.

Rows and rows of sleek, black limousines pulled up and parked along the warehouse's curb. The gates suddenly opened, and many of the guards left their posts to hustle toward the cars. Dozens of classy men in suits and ties emerged the vehicles, and were immediately greeted by the guards. They were all carrying briefcases, probably filled with dough to purchase the hot product being auctioned off inside.

Now that most of the guards had dropped their patrols, and were preoccupied escorting their guests into the warehouse, breaching their security and sneaking inside would be a lot easier. We didn't have a solid escape plan though, but there was no time. We'd have to wing it. It was now or never.

"Now's our chance," I rose into a stance. "C'mon Wrench, let's do this."

Wrench leapt to his feet energetically. "Time for some sweet, sweet revenge."

* * *

 **Leave a review if you like :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Marcus**

 ** _KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_**

Hard pounding on the apartment's front door jerked me from my slumber.

"Sitara!" A squeaky girl's voice shouted from the hall. "I know you're in there! You can't hide from me forever!"

The yelling sounded kinda familiar, but I couldn't piece together who exactly it belonged to. Whoever it was, she refused to let up on the knocking, and the unnecessarily loud ranting and raving. Fuck, I might as well answer it, for my ear's sake and the neighbors.

I reluctantly rose from the bed, relieved that the room was no longer spinning. The weakness and fatigue had faded too. Maybe my luck had finally turned around.

I slipped on my jeans and sweater, stepped into my boots, and then answered the door. A teenage girl wearing a neon pink, flowery sundress, with a designer purse hanging over her shoulder, stood on the other side. She was rather dainty and petite for her age, and despite the air of innocence emanating from her youthful, heart shaped face and flamboyant attire, her aggressive body language immediately put me on edge. She looked pissed— her tiny fists clenched, shoulders tensed and nostrils flared.

"Er, excuse me, who the heck are you?" She asked, her thick brows wrinkled with suspicion. "Where's Sitara?"

"Uh…" I fumbled, crumbling beneath her piercing glare. Something about her fiery attitude reminded me of Sitara. And that's when it dawned on me— the girl standing before me was Sitara's niece, Cindy Baumbach, famously known as DanceBoo01.

Her soft brown eyes filled with anger, glaring searing hot daggers into me. "Earth to four-eyes," she rose a hand toward my face, and impatiently snapped her fingers for my attention. "I asked you a question."

"I'm Marcus, Sitara's boyfriend," I muttered.

"Bull crap, Sitara doesn't have a boyfriend. And if she did, it wouldn't be you. No offense, but you're not her type."

"You mean funny, handsome and incredibly smart isn't her type?"

"No, I mean black."

"Damn," I grinned. "You really don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"Nope, I say it like I mean it. Now tell me where Sitara is. Why isn't she picking up her phone? What did you do to her? I'll call the cops, don't think I won't—"

"Hey, chill out. I'm not lying. Sitara went out to run some errands, she'll be back anytime now."

"Are you really her boyfriend?"

"Yes, I am," I stated matter-of-factly. "What's it gonna take to convince you?"

"It'd help if I could get in contact with her." She sighed heavily. "Okay, let's pretend you actually are her boyfriend. A girl's boyfriend is supposed to know everything about her. He's supposed to know her even better than he knows himself."

"That's debatable—"

"What's her favorite color?"

"Easy," I smiled. "Purple."

"What's her zodiac sign?"

"Aquarius."

"Favorite pastime?"

"Drawing and karaoke."

"What sport did she play in high school?"

"Track."

"Name something she hates more than anything."

I furrowed my brows in thought. This question was a hard one. Sitara hated a lot of things. "Heartless tech giants? Wait no, it's stupid ass celebrity culture. Oh, oh, it's gotta be capitalism. The gap between the poor and the rich keeps growing and growing. I mean, you can't escape it. The system is brainwashing us, and most of us don't even know it. Everywhere you look, the billboards, TV, the internet— there's always someone trying to sell you something, influencing you to buy their product—"

"I didn't ask for a lecture, thank you very much." Cindy rolled her eyes.

"My bad, I got a little carried away." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "So, I take it I passed your little test then?"

"With flying colors. Maybe you're not full of crap after all. I can't say I'm totally surprised she never mentioned you, she's super secretive about everything. It's like, so unnecessary. Don't you think her family deserves to know who she's playing house with? Would it be so hard to invite you over for dinner, or something?"

"Maybe she's worried y'all wouldn't approve? I'm not her type, remember?"

"Personally, I don't mind who she dates. He could be green for all I care, as long as he's nice, and sweet, and preferably rich, so he can buy me— I mean her, all the clothes she wants, and a giant mansion, so I can live there too." She sighed, tension releasing from her muscles. "Wouldn't that be perfect? I wouldn't have to go to college, or get a stupid job. Life would be a breeze. Tell me, four eyes, are you rich? Do you at least have a job?"

"Well no, but I got a dollar, a dream, and a shitload of ambition."

"Whatever." Cindy abruptly lunged forward, pushing me aside, and entered the apartment. She had a real pep in her step, her wedge sandals clicking against the floor, and her short, brown ponytail swayed freely with every stride she made. She gravitated to Sitara's wooden wardrobe closet, and began rummaging through it. "Don't mind me, I'll be leaving any moment now."

"What? Leaving so soon? Damn, I was really enjoying your company. But I know you have things to do and places to be," I feigned a smile. "Are you looking for something? Need an extra pair of eyes? If there's anything I can do to help speed up the process and get you outta' here—"

"Stop talking please," she returned a tight-lipped smile. "It's distracting. No offense, but prom night is in a few days, and I have a thousand things to do, okay? I already have the perfect dress picked out for the school dance— it's super, duper cute. But I need something for the after party, something showy and sexy, with a bit of leg preferably. Sitara has just the outfit to fit the bill. I was gonna ask her to borrow it, but since she's not here, I'll just take it. I doubt she'll mind. She wears the same outfit like everyday anyway."

I watched her carelessly toss Sitara's clothes onto the floor. "Uh, you sure she won't mind?"

"Maybe if she'd pick up her phone, I could ask. I called her like a bajillion times. Do you think she's dodging me? She can be so petty—" Cindy abruptly paused, her eyes widening as she pulled out a small, yellow stun gun from the depths of Sitara's closet. "W-whoa," she stammered, playfully aiming the weapon about the room. "Where did Sitara get this?"

My heart nearly skipped a beat as she waved the loaded firearm around like a maniac. "Hey, watch where you're aiming that thing," I hurried to her side and snatched it from her grasp. "Sitara needs this for protection. It ain't a toy."

I set the gun down on top of the tall wardrobe, out of Cindy's reach.

"Wait, I wanna see!" She begged, standing on the tip of her toes as she helplessly reached for the gun.

"No," I grumbled, turning away.

"Please?"

"Nuh-uh. Ain't gonna happen."

She gripped my arm and tugged, forcing me to look at her. "Pretty please?" She pleaded softly, pouting her face like a baby, her big brown eyes glistening. "I know it's not a toy. I promise I won't shoot it, and I won't tell Sitara you showed me. Please, can I just see it for a second? What kind of gun is it? Is it a pistol? Why is it yellow?"

I sighed. For a snobby kid with a savage mean streak, she actually had a pretty cute baby face to make up for it, as much as I hated to admit it. I guess one peek wouldn't hurt. The faster I satisfied her curiosity, the faster she'd get back to finding whatever she was looking for, and leave. "You can look, but no touching, alright?"

"Yay!" Cindy exclaimed happily.

I ceased the gun from the top of the closet, and showed it to her. "This isn't a pistol, it's a 3D printed stun gun."

"A stun gun?"

"Yeah. See, with a handgun, ammunition is usually stored in a detachable magazine that slips in and out of the grip. But a stun gun runs on batteries, and you have to reload a new gas cartridge each time you fire. Which takes a Hell of a long time in a dangerous situation. You don't wanna miss with this thing."

"What's a gas cartridge?"

"It's the gun's ammunition. If there's a bad guy coming at you, you aim at him, and pull the trigger right here. The compressed gas cartridge inside the gun breaks open, builds pressure behind the electrodes, and launches barb-tipped probes with wires attached to it, which will attach to the attacker's clothes. Once the probes are attached, a burst of electricity travels through the wires and the impact of the shock disables the attacker. Cool right?"

"I guess. But does it kill people?"

"Nah, it makes the bad guys go night-night for a little while, only a couple minutes usually, sometimes less."

"How? Doesn't electricity kill people? These things have tons of voltage, right?"

"Sure, electricity can kill you, but you're getting voltage and amperage mixed up. Voltage is the amount of potential energy that electrons have— it's like the measure of force or pressure behind the electricity's motion, and amperage is the measurement of how many electrons are moving through a circuit—"

"Um…" She stared at me blankly. "You've lost me."

"Long story short, it's the amperage of electricity that kills you, not the voltage. A stun gun uses less than five milliamps. A milliamp is only one-thousandth of an amp, not nearly enough to do any real harm."

"I don't get it. It's so tiny. Why would Sitara use this for protection? If there was some big beefy creep trying to kill her, I doubt five milliamps of electricity could stop him. Wouldn't she be better off with a real gun?"

"Well, this is a safer, non-lethal alternative. Don't underestimate what this little guy can do, just because he's small. I've been shot with one of these before, it hurt like all Hell, girl. The high voltage shock targets the nervous system, interrupting your neurological functions, and burns blood sugar by converting it to lactic acid, kinda like how vigorous exercise does. It doesn't matter how big the attacker is. If Sitara shot him with this, he's going down."

"But if there were more than just one guy?"

"She'd be out of luck," I placed the weapon back on top of the wardrobe. "Mind if I ask why you're so interested in all this? Don't you got a prom to worry about?"

"I'm probably just being paranoid but…" She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders weakly, her eyes lowering to her feet.

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concerned by her sudden silence. "You alright? Did somethin' happen?"

"Not to be weird, or anything, but I felt like I was being followed on the way here. Every time I looked behind me, there were these creepy guys who weren't far behind. I kept calling Sitara because I was scared…"

I frowned. The fact that Sitara hasn't been answering Cindy's calls was really starting to bother me. I knew she had Wrench to watch her back, but I was still worried. It's either Sitara was purposely dodging her niece, too preoccupied by fieldwork to be bothered, or she was actually in trouble. Damn, I hope the second scenario wasn't the case.

Most likely, Cindy was just being paranoid. But a young girl like her shouldn't be walking the city streets alone. If something happened to her on her way back home from here…

"Maybe you should chill here until Sitara gets back?" I asked. "That way, she can find the dress you're looking for, and you can keep your butterfingers out of her stuff. Sound good?"

"No way, four eyes. The thought of being stuck here with you is enough to break me out in hives. I'm deathly allergic to nerds." She glared at me, and formed a tight smile. "Sorry, not sorry."

"Did you really just say 'sorry not sorry'?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "Let me guess, Demi Lovato fan?"

"Nope, Bryson Tiller."

"For real?"

"Yep. He's one of my favorite artists. Anyway, enough chit-chat. I have to get home soon. My seriously overprotective parents have me on the most ridiculous curfew ever."

"Alright, at least let me walk you home then? I won't even speak if you don't want me to. You can talk all you want, take the floor girl, the mic will be all yours. I'll just listen, no more nerdy rants outta' me, promise. I'm a man of my word."

"No thanks. I'll come back for the dress tomorrow." She glided past me and took off for the front door. She tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. "What the crap? What's wrong with the door?"

"Huh?" I took her side and gave the knob a twist and tug. The door was completely stuck in place. "The fuck? When did this happen?"

"I don't know, you tell me! The door was opening and closing just fine when I got here. I turned away for just a second to look through the closet and now…" Lips beginning to tremble, Cindy stared at me silently. Eyes laced with suspicion and glistening with fear, she cautiously backed away from me. "Y-you did this, didn't you? You're trying to trap me in here, aren't you?"

My muscles tensed. "What? No, I'm not. Why the fuck would I do that? That's crazy."

"Why isn't the door opening then?"

I shifted my attention from her to the jammed apartment door. I pushed and pulled with all my strength, but to no avail. It was as if something was holding it shut—

"Tell me the truth!" Cindy screamed at the top of her lungs.

I froze, and glanced at her. I found myself staring at the yellow barrel of Sitara's stun gun. Cindy aimed it at my chest, hands unsteady, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her finger was so close to the trigger. I swallowed deeply, dread washing over me. Fuck, I just couldn't get a break today.

"Cindy…" I mumbled, hesitantly raising my hands in surrender. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, I didn't—"

 ** _Crash!_**

I shivered, the sudden noise of what sounded like glass being smashed into pieces from down the hall almost made my heart burst from my chest. Startled, Cindy shuddered and let out a yelp, her finger pressed the stun gun's trigger. A pair of barbed probes propelled from the firearm and latched onto my sweater.

A short burst of electricity tore through me, and it hurt just as fucking bad as I remembered, the excruciating pain immediately brought me to my knees. I groaned, wheezing harshly— no matter how hard I tried to fight it, an overwhelming soreness gripped my muscles, rendering them useless. I sagged onto the cold floor, the world morphed into a muddled blur. Searing sharp spasms repeatedly jolted through my insides, my consciousness slowly waned away.

* * *

 ** _Thump. Thump._**

The sound of heavy footsteps against the floorboards roused me to my senses. The pain had finally let up, and I managed to open my eyes, but it took a moment for my blurry sight to focus. The haze eventually cleared.

Although, I was still disorientated, unsure of what the fuck just happened to me, and wondering whether I did something to deserve it. I couldn't seem to piece a fucking thing together.

I turned over, and laid eyes on Cindy, who happened to lying on the cold floor as well, hiding under the bed. She was shaking uncontrollably, with her hand slapped over her mouth and nose, as if she was trying to keep quiet for some reason. Her wet eyes peered at me, soft, and apologetically almost.

Hopelessly confused by her odd behavior, I sat up.

There was a stranger across the room, standing idly by with his back turned to me, staring at a photo of Sitara hanging on the wall. He was dressed fully in black, gun on his hip, knife in hand and ski mask concealing his facial features.

Everything suddenly clicked. The door mysteriously becoming jammed, the sound of glass shattering, Cindy tasing me— the memories all came flushing back. The stranger must have broken a window and climbed inside. How did he manage to pull that shit off without anyone noticing?

He probably did something to the door to stop us from escaping. Jesus… why go through all the effort? Why the fuck was everyone so committed to ruining my vibe? Couldn't a brother just get one single day of rest and relaxation? Was that so much to ask for?

Muscles twitching with frustration over my extremely shitty luck lately, the sight of the masked intruder gazing at Sitara's picture with a blade in his grip was the breaking point of my patience.

I snapped, an explosive rage had set off inside me like a bomb, and all I could see was red. I didn't know who he was, why he was here, or whether he had friends with him, but the motherfucker was going to pay. Him, and every other spider monkey fuck who managed to climb up in here.

Without any of my gear, I had to fight the old-fashioned way. Quietly, I stalked my way to the intruder and surprised him with an arm lock around his scrawny neck. He winced, struggling to wrestle himself free from my hold, repeatedly slamming my back against the wall and knocking over just about everything he could get his hands on. But my grip was firm, and there was far too much adrenaline and raw rage pumping through my veins to feel pain.

His noisy, hopeless struggling didn't fall on deaf ears, however. Two of his friends came to his aid— more masked goons. They emerged from down the hall. I snatched the handgun from my victim's hip, and aimed it at them.

Having gained the advantage of a loaded firearm, everyone froze. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't interested in asking questions, or trying to negotiate a peaceful solution. I was done playing nice.

I set my sight on the masked man on the right. Quickly settling my aim on his leg, I pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated and shattered his kneecap. He cried out, dropping to the floor. The second man drew a switchblade from his pocket and quickly lunged toward me. I threw the scrawny necked intruder aside and raised my foot to meet my assailant, kicking him back. He stumbled back from the impact, crashing into the closet doors.

The man I tossed aside hastily regained his composure, and rammed into me, my back collided with the wall once again. It actually hurt this time around, a grunt of pain seeped through my clenched teeth. The handgun slipped from my fingers and dropped onto the floor.

"Fuck," I grimaced, shoving my knee into his stomach, and knocking the wind out of him. He coughed and gasped for air, buckling over. I followed up with a swift kick to his face, the satisfying crack of his nose breaking beneath the heel of my boot was the highlight of my day. The force put him right to sleep.

The dude with the switchblade charged at me once again. He swung the sharp knife toward my torso recklessly. I dodged his frenzied swipes, patiently waiting for an opportunity to strike back. Eventually, I successfully caught his wrist, wrenched the blade from his clutches, and bashed my elbow into his face.

He sunk to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. Despite the heavy bleeding, his lips curved into a bloody, menacing smirk. In one quick movement, he drew a small shiv from his back pocket and took another swipe at me, aiming for my throat. Considering we weren't in jail and most people didn't carry around random shivs on them, the cheap shot caught me by surprise. I weaved out of the way just in time however, the blade's point only nicked my throat, drawing a small amount of blood.

"Motherfucker!" I lashed out, hammering my fist into his masked face. He went down with a single slug, but I didn't stop. I wouldn't, I couldn't— I just kept punching and punching, blood gushing through my fingers. I was determined to leave him on the brink of death, bruised and disfigured. The coward deserved it, they all deserved it.

I blinked, and his masked face suddenly disappeared, and was replaced with the pale, broken face of the tortured woman from the cellar. One glance at her bloody, punctured eye socket caused my anger to dissipate into nothingness. Icy tendrils of terror to enclosed around my heart, rooting me in place. She was crying blood, crimson red pouring from the corner of her eyes and into her silky brown hair.

"Help," she whimpered. "Please…"

"N-no, you aren't real," I whispered, burying my face in my bloody, trembling hands. "You're not real. None of this is real. It's all a bad dream—"

Am I going crazy? Why couldn't I get her out of my head? What did I do to deserve this? I couldn't save Horatio, but I owned up to my mistakes. I know I fucked up, I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't smart enough. The guilt of failing to save her was eating me up inside all the same, but I almost died for her. I went down into that cellar to save her, to save everyone who's gone missing. I've worked so hard for redemption. I sacrificed everything. What more did I have to do?

There was yelling, a lot of it, but I didn't care to listen— to do anything but sulk in my own pathetic remorse. Good Lord, I was falling apart, losing my shit with every passing moment. Sitara and the others would cringe in disgust if they saw me like this. I hope they never did, but at this rate…

Small hands clenched the sleeve of my sweater. "They're coming!" Cindy shouted at me. "Do you hear me, you idiot? More are coming! Help me get out of here!"

"M-more?" I asked, lowering my hands to my sides. I gazed down at the man lying before me, the woman's face was finally gone. There were footsteps coming from down the hall, heading this way. I had all the time in the world to reminisce on my shit luck, pain and failures. Now wasn't the time. I had to pull it together. I had to. Or Cindy and I were fucked.

We weren't getting out through the front door, that's for sure. Our only hope was the bedroom window. I vaulted over the bed and opened it. Down below was an alleyway, with a conveniently placed open dumpster, full of cardboard boxes and garbage bags. It wasn't a long way down, considering we were only on the second floor.

"We're gonna have to jump," I said. "It'll be a rough fall, but we could probably survive it with no broken bones if we landed inside the dumpster—"

A pair of hands latched onto me from behind. Instinctively, I butt the back of my head against my attacker's forehead. The impact of our craniums crashing together gave me the meanest headache.

"Gah!" My assailant griped, setting me free and falling back onto the floor.

Cindy winced. "That looked like it hurt."

"It did," I muttered, rubbing my head. "Alright, you go first. I'll be right behind you—"

"N-no, I can't do it." She shook her head. "That's a freaking dumpster, for God's sake. Do you see this sundress? This is new, brand new! I'm not gonna ruin it by jumping out a window, into a stinkin' dumpster."

"Girl, we don't have time for this. Climb your little ass out that window, and jump, or the only prom you'll be going to is the one in Heaven, if you're lucky enough to even make it there."

"Oh my God, I can't do it! I just can't—"

I swept her petite body off her feet and into my arms. Thanks to how short and narrow her frame was, it was easy to slip her outside the window. Kicking and crying, she screamed for dear life as I held her in the warm summer air.

"Don't drop me!" She yelled, tightly clinging to the collar of my shirt. "You're a psychopath! I hate you! I hate you! Help! He's going to kill me! Michael Jackson is going to drop me!"

"Sorry, not sorry." I dropped her.

"Asshole!" Cindy shouted at the top of her lungs the whole way down, her insult echoing throughout the city. She landed safely in the dumpster, but seemed to be having some trouble trying to climb out, her arms too short to grab onto the railing to heave herself to freedom.

I vaulted out the window soon after, landing face first on a trash bag full of week old lasagna, and moldy meatballs. My stomach quaked with nausea. There were flies everywhere. It smelled like literal dog shit in here.

I hopped out of the dumpster, and took Cindy's hand, pulling her out next. Unable to maintain her balance, she leaned against me, dazed. I took her into my arms once again and sped off from the alleyway, into the safety of the crowded streets.

She began burping repeatedly, the belching grew louder and louder each time.

I set her down on a bench outside a clothing store, and inspected her closely. She looked woozy. "Damn, you good girl? What's wrong? Did you fall on your head, or somethin?"

"You're a—" She heaved, chunky vomit propelled from her mouth and onto my sweater. I stood there in disbelief as she puked on me, the vile chunks oozed warmly down my torso, the retched stench of stomach acid filled my nostrils. People passing by stared at us in pure disgust. It was only a matter of time before someone called the cops, there was blood all over me, and Cindy looked like she was a second away from face-planting the ground.

After what felt like forever, she finally quit spewing vomit on me, and regained her composure. "Like I was saying before I was interrupted," she said, casually patting down the wrinkles in her dress. "You're a psychopath."

* * *

 **Don't forget to comment if you like! I'm looking forward to reading your comments and feedback, I'll do my best to respond as quickly as possible. My goal is to become a better writer and getting your input would mean the world to me. Thank you for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys! Sorry I've been slacking with the updates, but life has been crazy lately. I promise to do much better in the future. Your comments are very much appreciated, so if you like the chapter, let me know! Enjoy ^_^**

* * *

 **Marcus**

"Like I was saying before I was interrupted," Cindy said, casually patting down the wrinkles in her dress. "You're a psychopath."

"This 'psychopath' just saved your behind," I muttered, distracted by the prying eyes of bystanders wandering nearby. We were in a shopping district, populated with small, family owned businesses, and there were a lot of loiterers outside the stores, enjoying the weather and hanging with friends. But there was tension in the air, I felt it the moment we emerged from the alley— the heat of their concerned stares made me uncomfortable. My bloody, puke splattered sweater, and Cindy's messy hair, and weary, tearstained face was really putting people on edge. We were drawing too much attention, it was time to move.

Cindy snorted. "Hah! You want a thank you for throwing me out a window and ruining my favorite sundress? No way, Sherlock. I could have died! And do you have any idea how much this dress costs? Huh? Do you—"

"Don't care." I took her hand and sped off down the street, away from the prying eyes.

I needed to find Cindy someplace safe to lay low. Earlier, she mentioned feeling as if she was being followed on the way to Sitara's place. Maybe she actually was being stalked, and led those fuckers who attacked us right to Sitara's doorstep. Did they want to hurt Cindy, or were they merely using Cindy as a means to locate Sitara? Who sent them in the first place? Who the fuck did we piss off enough to deserve being hunted down like this? Why were they targeting DedSec?

I had so many questions, but no answers. The most important question of all though— how did they keep finding us? Whoever was targeting us, clearly, they had a shitload of guns, and plenty of thugs willing to do their dirty work. These people were resourceful, and chances are, they had all kinds of intel on us, including where we lived.

Did they know about the hackerspace too? Possibly, but even if they did, all of our headquarters were heavily fortified, no one would be able to get in without the passcode. Someone could probably force the doors open if they were resourceful enough, and Lord knows these people were, but with the amount of security cameras and alarms Josh has set up around each one, we'd know if an intruder was coming from a mile away.

I couldn't take Cindy back to my apartment. More masked goons could be waiting for us there. For all I knew, there could be some tailing us now. I could take her to the hackerspace, they wouldn't be able to get in even if they tried. It was only a few blocks away too. She'd be safe there.

However, no matter how desperate or extreme the circumstances were, it was up to Sitara who was allowed in and out of the hackerspace. I had to check in with her before doing anything drastic.

The boisterous noise of police sirens was in the distance, the roar becoming louder and louder. Cops were heading this way. With the amount of attention we drew to ourselves, it was no surprise someone called the police. Or maybe Sitara's neighbors called them, the scuffle I had in her apartment must have been extremely noisy. Shooting that dude in his kneecap probably wasn't the best idea.

I had much bigger things to worry about than the police. With Cindy at my side, we made a turn into a wide, deserted alleyway beside a small Irish pub. There was a black SUV parked on the side, near the back door of the bar. I stripped off my stained sweater, discarded it on the ground and tugged my phone from my pocket.

I hacked the car, powering on the electric motor and releasing the electronic locks. We hustled toward it.

 ** _Snap!_**

The heel of Cindy's right sandal broke mid-stride. She yelped, falling onto the gravel, just before we made it to the car. Her knees scraped the ground roughly, drawing blood.

"Oww," she cried out in pain, clutching her foot, eyes watering.

"Shit," I crouched before her, wincing at the sight of her small bloodied knees. "Are you okay baby girl?"

"Does it look like I'm okay, Sherlock? It hurts!"

I reached out and opened the car's passenger door. Gently, I took her into my arms and eased her into the backseat. Once she was safely inside, I took the wheel and peeled off, carefully swerving out of the alley, and nosing into the chaotic, rush hour traffic. Multiple cop cars zipped past us in the opposite direction, tires smoking as they shot toward Sitara's building.

"I wanna go home!" Cindy shouted, kicking the back of my seat. "Ow, my knee!" She cupped her knees. "Why are we driving away from the police? We need to tell them what happened. They'll protect us—"

"You can't go home," I replied. "The police can't help us, alright? Just trust me on this."

"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you."

"I saved your life, didn't I? Doesn't that count for something?"

"You threw me out a window!"

"Damn, you still holding a grudge? When are you gonna get over that?"

"Seriously?" Her eyes widened with disbelief. "Um, I don't know… how about like, never?"

"I'll admit, throwing you out the window, even if it was for your own good, was slightly satisfying. I mean, you did tase me, after all. It's fair game."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat, creep. You do know that throwing people in the backseat of your car against their will is considered kidnapping, right? If the cops catch you, you'll go to jail for twenty years. And that's the standard sentence. Kidnapping beautiful girls will land you like, double that. Trust me, I've done my research on this stuff."

"Really? So, your sentence is cut in half for kidnapping the ugly ones? Great, looks like I'll only be doing twenty years then—"

"Shut up!" She kicked my seat again. "You're lucky I forgot my purse at Sitara's place. I'd freaking strangle you with it if I could."

"Calm down, alright? Whether you like it or not, I'm trying to protect you."

"You saved me because you had to. Sitara would pop your fat nerd head like a balloon if something were to happen to me. And when she finds out about you tossing her beautiful, precious niece, who happens to be an internet celebrity by the way, out a freaking window, you can kiss your relationship with her good bye."

"Whatever," I mumbled. Arguing with Cindy was a waste of time, there was no getting through to her.

I let out a sigh of frustration as we slowly cruised along in the bumper to bumper traffic. My racing heartbeat gradually calmed, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins fizzled out. The pain from the fight I had shortly ago began to rear its ugly head.

My knuckles throbbed, and a burning sensation gripped my spine. Thankfully, it was bearable. I was used it, a hard day of running ops usually left my muscles sore. The discomfort was nothing out of the ordinary for me. But there stinging pang in my face and throat, and I didn't recall getting punched, or choked…

I stole a glance at the rearview mirror. There were gashes on my face and throat, most of them small and barely noticeable, but they stung like annoying papercuts.

Cindy was curled up in fetal position, the blood pooling in her damaged knees began to trail down her petite legs. I could hear her weeping softly between the aggravating noise of rush hour traffic.

"Cindy?" I asked. "You gonna be okay?"

Surprisingly, she didn't respond. For the first time ever, she decided against running her big mouth. It was weird. She seemed to be in pretty bad shape, physically and mentally. For a second, I actually felt bad for the brat. We had plenty of first aid supplies at the hackerspace, I could easily patch her up there. But first, I had to run it by Sitara.

Which was easier said than done. Every call I made went straight to voicemail, and trying to get in contact with her through the DedSec app didn't work either. I couldn't hear a thing on my end, just distorted, white noise and static. Something was jamming the signal.

Not a good sign.

Fuck it, I had to get back to the hackerspace.

* * *

I punched in the code to the hackerspace's metal entrance multiple times, which was pretty hard to do with Cindy in my arms, might I add, but the door wouldn't open. I waited and waited for what seemed like forever. Frustrated, I gave it a stern kick. Moments later, the entrance finally slides open, and Josh appeared on the other side.

His eyes widened at the sight of Cindy. "M-Marcus? What's going on? Why is she here—"

"Long story," I slipped past him, and quickly descended the steps into the hackerspace. I set Cindy down on the couch and knelt before her, inspecting her scarred knees. They were caked with dried blood, and yellowish pus. "Yo Josh," I called out. "Pass me a first aid kit."

I waited for a second or two for Josh to respond. He didn't respond however, silence overwhelmed the space. I stood, my gaze darted about the hackerspace in search for him. After a moment of searching, I eventually laid eyes on him, his body huddled in a dark corner near his desk, arms hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

I sighed. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with one of his panic attacks today, I had so much other shit to worry about already. Regardless, I needed to swallow my stress and frustration, and help him calm down. After everything we've been through, and all the times he's saved my ass due to his pure genius, I owed him that, and so much more. And Cindy's wounds weren't severe, she could wait a sec' while I tried to get through to him.

"Yo Josh, what's up man?" I asked, approaching him cautiously. "What's the matter?"

Lips pressed into a fine line, he merely shook his head.

I hovered over him and leaned down, laying a hand on his tense shoulder. "Talk to me. Whatever's bothering you, we can get through it together."

His bloodshot eyes glanced at me. "Give me your phone," he muttered, his voice deadpan. Despite how random his sudden request was, I handed it over without contest. Then, his gaze strayed to my phone, and he opened the Dedsec app. "The DedSec app has been compromised." Josh muttered, his fingers tapped away at my phone's touch screen keyboard. "They have access to our servers, Marcus. Our phones are infected. They know where we are, where our followers are, and they've even been listening in on all of our conversations."

My brows furrowed with disbelief. "How?"

"Someone uploaded a virus onto the app. They modified the binary with malicious coding, and masked the exploit as an update. Everyone who downloaded the update has been exposed."

"Like HaDoCk did with the Zombi2 virus?"

"Exactly like HaDoCk did, but with a lot less brains. If they were smart enough, they could completely reverse-engineer the binary, and pull our sensitive data, and even our source code right from the application. But they haven't, at least not yet. I don't know what they're waiting for. Maybe they aren't after our data, maybe they're only interested in tracking us."

"How long have they had access?"

"I don't know. But the update was released fifteen minutes ago. I changed the entry codes to all of our headquarters, and disabled the DedSec channel as a safety precaution. Two more of our members have gone off the grid since the beach massacre last night. That makes eight of us dead in less than twenty-four hours. They could be coming here next, Marcus. They're going to kill us—"

"Nah, stop talking like that man. They can't get in here, we're safe."

"What makes you so sure?"

"There's a big ass metal door separating us from them, remember? You changed the entry codes, right? So, if they try to break in, we'll see it coming. But we can't sit back and do nothing while they're killing off our crew, man. C'mon, let's clean the app, and rewrite the binary. We can get this shit done quick if we work together."

Muscles twitching with anxiety, Josh sprung into a stance, and pressed my phone against my chest. "I scrubbed your phone clean, you're a ghost now. Wrench and Sitara are at a warehouse in Marin, the coordinates are in your phone. Go and find them."

"But what about app?"

"I'll alert our users and let them know the app has been compromised—"

"Wait. Is there any way to trace back who's responsible for this?"

"It's feasible, but there's no guarantee, and it'll take time. I can focus on that instead, but at the cost of leaving everyone who downloaded the update exposed to the virus, possibly including Sitara and Wrench. Is it worth the risk?"

I furrowed my brows in thought. If we didn't publicly announce to our members and followers that our app had been compromised, we'd be allowing everyone to be tracked, and possibly killed. On the other hand, we'd have a shot at finding out who's been fucking with us. No more uncertainty, or mysteries— we could put an end to the paranoia once and for all, and make them pay.

"Find out who did this, Josh," I demanded. "Make it quick, preferably before people realize any foul-play. We don't want anyone exposed to hack longer than need be."

"I'll work as fast as I can. Oh, Marcus, there's something else I need to tell you," his bloodshot eyes stared into mine. "No one could've bypassed our security and hacked our app without any of us knowing. Whoever did this must have already had access to our servers."

"Right, but only DedSec members have access."

"My point exactly."

There was a moment of silence between Josh and I, as the realization of what he was implying slowly sunk in. "So, that means… we have a rat?"

Josh frowned. "We need to be careful, Marcus. We can't trust anyone, not anymore."

I sighed. If it isn't one thing, it's another. "Alright, I gotta go patch up Cindy. I'll head out to find Sitara and Wrench as soon as I'm done. Do you remember where the first aid kit is?"

"Check the lockers by the vending machine. There's bound to be one in there." He stole a glance at Cindy. "Wait, you're leaving her here?"

"Yeah, if that's cool with you. She might give you a little trouble, but you can handle it, right?"

"N-no," he stuttered. "I-I can't watch after her on my own. It's suicide—"

"Suicide?" I grinned. "Don't you think that's a bit dramatic? She's just a teenage girl man, you've survived far more dangerous shit than babysitting."

"I don't think you understand, Marcus. Teenage girls are the most dangerous—"

"Damn right we are!" Cindy's high-pitched voice boomed throughout the hackerspace. I turned around, and spotted her standing a short distance away from Josh and I. Knees still scarred and bleeding, and big, brown eyes smoldering with anger, she waved the sharp end of a small pair of scissors toward us. "Tell me where I am, now!" She demanded.

"I got this," Josh said. He took a cautious step toward her. "Um, hi, my name is Josh—"

"I don't care what your name is, creep! Now get back, before I cut you into several slices."

"Okay," Josh mumbled. Slowly, he huddled behind me for shelter, and clutched my arm. "Do something Marcus, or she's going to cost us everything."

I grinned. "Dude, chill out. It's just a pair of scissors."

Cindy glared at me. "Laugh while you can, four eyes. But I'll have you know, there's a reason why they tell people not to run with scissors. Last time I did, someone got hurt, bad."

"Y-you hurt someone?" Josh asked.

"Sure did. It was years ago, when I was a wee toddler. I made the mistake of running around with one of these things, and ended up stabbing one of my dolls, Debbie, right in the face. She's never been the same since." She pointed the scissors at Josh threateningly. "I'll do it again if I have to! Don't tempt me!"

"P-please don't…" Josh begged. "Don't stab us in the face, please—"

"Everybody calm the fuck down," I demanded. "Ain't nobody getting stabbed in the face, alright? Cindy, put down those little ass scissors before you give Josh another panic attack."

"No!" Cindy shouted. "Come and take them from me, dickweed. I dare you."

"Challenge accepted." I casually stepped up to Cindy. Feet rooted in place, she cringed, letting out a small yelp as I reached out and snatched the scissors from her hand.

I passed the scissors over to Josh. A drawn-out sigh of relief escaped him. "I'll put these back where they belong," he said.

I escorted Cindy back to the couch. "Sit down."

"No," she retorted. "You can't make me."

I sighed. She was really starting to test my patience. "Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

"Maybe because you kidnapped me? I'm hungry and tired, and my legs hurt. I wanna go home."

"It'll be much easier for me to treat your wounds if you sit down. Stop fighting me, girl. I'm trying to help you."

"Whatever." Arms folded across her chest, she plopped down on the couch, and kicked her feet up on cushions. "Do whatever you want to me. I don't care anymore."

I shook my head. When was she gonna get it through her thick head that I wasn't the enemy? Now that she was finally calm, I set off in search for the first aid kit. It was inside the lockers by the vending machine, just as Josh directed. I returned to Cindy and got to work on mending her wounds.

Although I was pressed for time, and worried sick about Sitara and Wrench, I made sure to be extra cautious, and gentle in cleansing her injuries. My hesitation caused the entire process of disinfecting and dressing her wounds to take a lot longer, but it was worth it. The last thing I needed was for her to get riled up again.

Once I finished cleaning and bandaging her knees, I grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the depths of the first aid kit. "You should take two of these. It should help with the pain—"

 ** _Slap!_**

Cindy swatted the painkillers from my hand. The bottle soared across the hackerspace, and collided with the wall. "I don't want your stupid pills," she grumbled. "I wanna go home."

My muscles tensed. I took in a deep breath and exhaled, in a desperate attempt to relieve my frustration. "Cindy, listen to me," I gazed into her eyes. "I know you wanna go home, but you can't, alright? There's some really bad people that are after us. We barely made it out of Sitara's apartment alive, remember? These people are resourceful, and ruthless. It's too dangerous for you to go home. But you're safe here, no one can hurt you."

She trembled, her wide, luminous eyes grew wet. "W-why do they want to hurt me? I didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't know, baby girl. I'm sorry." I smiled sadly. "But you're gonna be alright, no one's going to hurt you. I'm gonna go find your niece, okay? She'll know what to do. And when this is all over, Sitara and I will take you back home, and everything will be back to normal."

"You swear? Will I make it to prom?"

"Hell yeah, I'll make sure of it. You said you were hungry? I can pick you up something real quick. You like takeout?"

She sniffed, the proposition of food caused her face to brighten. "I like pizza. Scratch that, I love pizza. Especially when it's free."

"Finally, something we have in common. Okay, one pizza pie coming right up. Hold tight." I pulled away from the couch and turned for the stairs.

"Hurry back so you can find my niece!" Cindy demanded. "And make sure you order the pizza with extra cheese! Oh, and no pepperoni! I'm allergic to pork!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! Sorry I took so long since I updated, I've been really busy with school. I'm taking a full load, but I'll continue to post when I can. If you want to be the first to know when a new chapter is released, be sure to follow me!**

* * *

 **Sitara**

The warehouse's corrugated, metal roof was domed thirty feet above Wrench and I. The massive space was full of large, red shipping containers, many of them were piled on top of one another, some were stacked all the way to the solid steel ceiling.

The warehouse was quiet, way too quiet. The pitter-patter of our footsteps seemed to echo throughout the vicinity as we skulked about in a crouch. Although we were extra mindful of the security cameras overhead, and made sure to evade their line of sight, I couldn't help but feel as if we were being watched. Time and time again, I found myself looking over my shoulder, and around corners for potential enemies. But there was no one— no guards or personnel around to watch over the colossal amount of cargo.

Where was everyone? Considering the overwhelming amount of guards patrolling the place outside, it'd be safe to assume security would be even tighter on the inside. Something wasn't right. Or maybe I was just paranoid, the silence and emptiness was getting to me. However, I had every right to be paranoid, and if there's one thing I've learned over years from all the dangerous shit I've done and countless ops I've ran, it was to trust your gut above all else.

"I don't like this, Wrench," I mumbled.

"Me neither," he replied. "Just look at this place. Can you imagine all the sweet tech and goodies possibly stored in here? Figured there would be at least a couple of dudes around to protect it. This is just too easy."

I halted, and gripped his arm. He turned to face me, his mask lighting with question marks. "Maybe we should turn back while we still can," I whispered.

"No way, Sitara. We didn't come this far for nothing." He gazed at a large shipping container to our right. "C'mon, let's see what kind of precious cargo is behind door number one, shall we?"

"If there's anything inside worth taking, there are trucks located in the back of the warehouse," Josh radioed in. "You can load them up, and use them as your getaway."

"Will do." With a touch of his phone, Wrench released the container's electronic locks. The bulky, red door slowly rolled open.

My heart nearly stopped at the sight of what lied behind it. Dozens of young women were packed inside like livestock, some of which were children barely over the age of twelve. With little more than ripped, dirty rags for clothes, they sat on container's cold, steel floor, hands and feet bound by rope, and mouths gagged with duct tape.

The horrific sight made my flesh crawl. Human trafficking was a thriving market, and I knew fully well that it was happening all over the world, but witnessing such a heinous crime before my very eyes, was enough to strip away my love and faith in humanity, and all that was good and just in the world.

The women were silent, their droopy, bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the wall. They were completely unresponsive, seemingly unaware of our presence. "Jesus Christ," I cried, pressing a trembling hand over my quivering lips. "What's wrong with them?"

Wrench cautiously stepped into the container, and knelt before one of the girls, inspecting her closely. "She's out of it. Looks like their all high on something."

"What's going on?" Josh asked.

"We found shipment full of drugged out chicks," Wrench responded.

"Human trafficking victims," I added. "Some of them are just kids, Josh."

"Forced labor, and sexual exploitation— it's modern day slavery," Josh said. "People are stripped of their rights and treated as property. Traffickers are more likely to go after homeless youth, they make easy targets. No one will miss them."

Wrench stood, his hands balled into fists. "This is fucked! Who would do something like this?"

"Fucking human shit-stains, that's who," I replied. "We need to get these girls out of here, Wrench—"

"You there!" A deep voice demanded from behind us. "Hands in the air!"

Surprised by the sudden outburst, I shuddered, and whirled around. A horde of guards appeared, dressed in dark fatigues and wielding rifles. They held Wrench and I at gunpoint, each with their fingers near the trigger, prepared to fire. With the odds so heavily stacked against us, we had no choice but to follow their demands. Slowly, we both raised our hands above our heads.

The click-clack of dress shoes tapping against the polished, concrete floor filled the spacious warehouse, each step became louder and louder than the next. Someone was approaching us.

 ** _Click-clack. Click-clack._**

A man in an expensive, neatly pressed suit appeared in the distance. He held a lit cigarette between his thin lips, a small trail of smoke seeped into the air, dancing around him.

His movements were slow and leisurely, and there was an air of authority and entitlement in his stride. The eyes of the guards darted in his direction, and they hastily stepped aside, clearing a path for him. He paid little attention to this however, and as if he had all the time in the world, he continued to take his sweet time approaching us.

It felt like ages before he finally reached Wrench and I. Silently, he studied me for a moment, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes stared deeply into mine. He was a handsome man surprisingly, middle aged, his face clean-cut and perfectly symmetrical, and dark, tousled hair freckled with gray. Despite his sophisticated appearance, something about him put me on edge.

His expression was completely deadpan, and his glare was piercingly cold. He stared straight through me, as if I wasn't a person, but merely an obstacle in his path. Unnerved, I crumbled beneath his frigid stare, retreating a step, and huddling behind Wrench for protection.

"Nice suit," Wrench muttered, breaking the silence. Unlike me, he wasn't afraid. Amazingly, Wrench seemed to be unfazed by the dangerous situation we were in, head raised high, and arms crossed over his chest. I don't know how he managed to appear so level-headed and confident, but I was grateful for it. His display of courage was damn near contagious, and slightly comforting, despite the enormous odds against us.

The suited man lowered the cigarette from his mouth, and plucked it aside, snuffing it out with the back of his heel. "Quite the mask you have there," he stated, his voice was low and so even, the slightest changes in his tone were discernable. "Hiding something?"

"Maybe. I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours."

"What more is there to tell? The cat is already out of the bag." He glanced at the vulnerable women and children within the shipping container. There wasn't a shred of guilt or remorse in his eyes. It made my flesh crawl.

"Why?" I asked. "Why are you doing this to innocent people? How do you live with yourself?"

"The concept of ethics and morality are of little concern to me. I have much more pressing matters to attend to." He began unbuttoning his jacket. Slowly, he peeled it off, revealing a white, long-sleeve shirt beneath, and a small concealed handgun, which hung loosely from a shoulder holster strapped to his torso. My stomach churned at the sight of the weapon. I clenched onto Wrench's studied jacket tightly. We didn't have much longer…

"Hold up dude," Wrench pleaded. "What's the rush? Can't you just humor us for a sec'? We have questions, and I know you have answers."

He raised his arm, and stole a glance the gold Rolex on his wrist. "I suppose I have time." He muttered. "You both are DedSec, I presume? The hackers and watch dogs who put Dušan Nemec behind bars?"

"You know an awful lot about us buddy, but we don't know a thing about you," Wrench said.

"Yes, I know quite a bit about you, Reginald. This world we live in, so technologically advanced and innovative, yet so susceptible to be exploited, and manipulated. You never really know who's listening."

"You seem like a powerful guy, with a lot of powerful friends. Who exactly are you?"

"You may call me Quinn."

"Your business partner Giovanni seems to think you were behind the beach massacre last night," I said.

"Orders are orders." Quinn replied.

"What the Hell does that supposed to mean?" Wrench asked. "Why are you targeting us? What the fuck did we ever do to you, man?"

"Haven't pieced it together yet, have you?" He shook his head. "On the contrary, I'm not a powerful man. I have nothing against DedSec, I'm simply a man working for a wage, merely a pawn on the chessboard. These women and children are not my property, and neither is this warehouse. I merely safeguard the shipments from thieves and vandals, such as yourselves." He gazed at me. "Do you remember the man you shot down a month ago? He was an important man—"

"He was a murdering psychopath!" I argued. "Someone had to put him down, and I'm glad I was the one to do it—"

"Wait," Wrench gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You said you were a working man, so that means you have a boss, right? Why's he got his panties all in a bunch over some old geezer we killed? The dude was batshit crazy, we did the world a favor putting him down."

"My superiors would wholeheartedly disagree. Anyhow, I'm done talking, it's becoming quite dull." He removed his handgun from its holster. "I'm going to kill you both now, no offense—"

A guard tapped his shoulder, interrupting him. "Forgive me, Mr. Quinn, but there's been another breach, at the loading docks. Four of our personnel have gone off the grid."

"Another intruder?" Quinn scoffed, and pointed at two of the guards. "You there, load up Reginald and the girl with the rest of the cargo. The rest of you, come with me."

Wrench and I gazed at each other. There was another intruder? Who could it possibly be?

Quinn turned and forged off, most of the guards followed at his heels. The pair of guards who remained continued to hold us at gunpoint. One of them was bald and large, over six feet tall with a rugged beard and a pot belly that hung low over his waist. The other was short, skinny, and unnaturally pale.

"Get in there!" The guards demanded, pointing the barrel of their guns at the open shipping container full of girls.

Wrench refused to move, however. Feet rooted in place, he came face to face with the beefy guard, and glared at him in challenge. "I'm not going anywhere, asshole—"

 ** _Crack!_**

The large guard slammed the blunt of his rifle against Wrench's face. He stumbled back, the blow dented his mask, and completely shattered his goggles. Broken pieces of glass tumbled onto the floor.

"No!" Wrench groaned, dropping to his knees and frantically collecting the severed shards of his beloved mask.

Amused, the guard let out a disgusting guffaw, and hit Wrench with his gun yet again, this time, knocking him out cold.

The short one grabbed ahold of Wrench, and hauled him up. "I'm gonna load this one into the truck, the driver is already here and ready for transport. Might as well hurry up and get rid of him before he causes us anymore trouble."

"No!" I shouted, as he pulled Wrench away. I attempted to sprint after them, but giant mitts caught onto my ponytail from behind, and tugged me back roughly.

"Going somewhere?" The large guard snorted. As if I were nothing more than toy, he carelessly flung me aside by my hair. I crashed into the cold metal of yet another shipping container. My scalp throbbed painfully, and the hard collision caused my entire body to ache.

The guard started laughing once again. At that very moment, time seemed to come to a slow as I stared intensely at the potbellied grease-ball. My muscles tensed, and my hands curled tightly into fists. I wasn't going to sit here and let him bully me. No, I wanted to destroy him— to make him regret ever laying a finger on me. These people were monsters, and this egotistical, bullying shithead was the worst of them all.

Nostrils flaring, an animalistic cry escaped the depths of my throat, and I lunged at the guard, sinking my nails into his pudgy neck. He wailed, dropped his gun and jerked about, trying to throw me off. But I wouldn't let go. Instead, I jammed my fingertips into his eye, and squeezed with all the strength I could muster. I was determined to gouge his beady eyes right out of his pudgy head, and pop them like a cherry.

Desperate to set himself free, he latched onto my arm and peeled me off, tossing me onto the ground.

"You little bitch," he spat, and locked his grubby mitts around my ankle, dragging me across the floor and down the aisle of countless containers.

"Let go!" I cried out helplessly. I clawed at the floor, groping for something, anything to use against him. Luckily, I managed to snatched up a small, sharp shard of broken glass from Wrench's mask. Without hesitation, I jabbed it into the guard's leg.

He stumbled, a shriek of agony escaped him. The stab only angered him however, his grip on my ankle became even tighter. Still yanking me along on the cold floor, his path abruptly changed course. He limped toward the rifle he dropped earlier, and swept it up into his hand.

The veins in his face and arms throbbing with fury, the enraged guard turned his firearm on me. My heartbeat roared in my ears as I gazed into the rifle's long, hollowed barrel.

His finger slowly inched around the trigger. The guard grinned. "Say goodnight—"

The warehouse's bright, industrial lights suddenly powered down, cloaking the space in total darkness. The world around me had gone so pitch black, I wasn't sure whether I still had eyes.

 ** _Bang! Bang! Bang!_**

An ear-splitting barrage of gunfire overwhelmed the warehouse, the flash of flying bullets and exploding gunpowder flickered through the darkness. Various screams of panic, terror and absolute anguish filled the air. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled up into ball, knees hugged to my chest, hoping at praying that Wrench was okay, and that somehow, we'd make it out of this alive.

I wasn't sure how much more I could take before having a mental breakdown. I was so close to the edge, the violence and carnage seemed to be never-ending. I could feel the hail of gunfire zipping past me, missing by mere inches. An uncomfortable pang invaded my chest. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. The darkness was pressing in and smothering me like a heavy, thick blanket.

I felt like I was dying on the inside. Shivering violently, and on the verge of hyperventilating, a burst of tears spilled from my eyes. I sobbed without restraint, the roar of gunshots drowned out my hysterical crying.

I just wanted it all to end. Why wouldn't it end?

"Sitara!" A deep voice called out to me. Moments later, a pair of strong arms embraced me tightly, and the warmth of a muscular frame pressed against me. The hard-sculpted planes and curvature of the broad body sheltering me from harm was familiar, and oddly comforting, given the circumstances.

It didn't take long to realize Marcus had come to my rescue. But his touch, usually so soothing and tender, did little to calm my nerves this time around. Bullets were still flying like crazy, the warehouse was still shrouded in darkness. There were footsteps all around us, most likely people were running for their lives. Our luck was bound to run out eventually, it was only a matter of time.

"W-we're going to die!" I sobbed, my throat hoarse with emotion. "We're going to die, Marcus. It's all over."

"Keep your head down, girl," Marcus shouted over the gunfire. "I issued a false APB on one the personnel here, so the police came to crash the party! But we'll be perfectly fine, cops make a great distraction, am I right?"

"Are you crazy?" I paused to suck in a wheezing breath. "We're caught in the crossfire of shootout! Your stupid plan is going to get us killed."

"Trust me, I've got this all under control. Just relax."

"No, I'm not going to relax! Where's Wrench? Have you seen him? They took him, Marcus!"

"I know, I hacked the security cameras and saw everything. They took him to the truck loading docks on the other side of the warehouse. That Quinn motherfucker is a real piece of work, ain't he?"

"What are we waiting for Marcus? Let's go! There's women and children trapped in the containers too! We have to save them. We have to do something, we have to do something right now o-or—"

"Just breathe," he repeated. "In and out."

"Stop telling me to breathe!"

"You're hyperventilating girl, it sounds like you're about to have a heart attack."

"Marcus, I'm going to die of a heart attack and a stroke if we don't get off our asses and do something!"

"I hear you, but now's really not a good time. Trust me, we really don't want to move around in complete darkness while bullets are flying all around us. Odds are, we'll get shot."

"And what are the odds we won't get shot lying here?"

"They aren't much better. There's actually a pretty high chance a stray bullet will hit one of us any time now. But considering I'm like your human shield at the moment, it'll most likely hit me, so don't worry—"

"Marcus!" I squirmed beneath him, letting out a high-pitched whine. "You can't get shot. You're my knight in shining armor, my royal steed. I need you, you can't die. You're supposed to beat up all the bad guys and save me, and then we're going to live happily ever after. That's how the script goes."

"I'm gonna try my hardest to stick to script, baby." His soft, full lips brushed over my sweaty, tear-stained cheek. "Whatever happens, I'll be by your side to the very end, no regrets."

"Forever?" I sniffed, burying my face in his jacket.

"Forever and always." He replied softly. "When I count to three, the lights are gonna come back on. I need you to be ready to move by the time they do, alright?"

"And then what? Do you have a plan?"

"Well, the plan is pretty straight forward. We need to make it to the loading docks without dying miserably. First thing's first, we gotta focus on not being killed in the crossfire by cops as we fight our way through the bad guys. Next, we find Wrench, and then we improvise a great escape plan on the fly afterwards, because I can't think of one right now. Piece of cake, right? Once we're safe, we can meet up at the hackerspace and find a way to put the brakes on this whole fucked up, human trafficking bullshit."

My heart sank. We were doomed. "O-okay…"

"One…" Marcus began counting slowly. I swallowed deeply, and his muscles tensed. Despite the façade of confidence he was trying so hard to display for me, I could tell he was nervous. I didn't blame him, the chance of us making it out of this alive felt slim to none. "Two…" He leaned in, capturing my lips with his own. Although fleeting, the kiss we shared was so deep and passionate, both of us fully aware that it could very well be our last. It was a bittersweet moment, but one I wished would last forever.

Sadly, Marcus reluctantly pulled away, and muttered, "Three."

The industrial lights overhead came back to life, the bright glare warded away the darkness and illuminated the space in its entirety.

Marcus and I sprung into a stance, only to realize we were trapped in the very center of a crowded aisle, in the middle of a bloody brawl between the cops and the guards. People punched, kicked, and wrestled with one another, fists and feet being thrown from every direction. All the while, bullets were soaring from both ends of the warehouse with no regard to human life, hitting walls, ricocheting off containers, and tearing through flesh. The floor was riddled with bleeding, battered corpses.

It reminded me of a bar fight, just that instead of trying to break up the altercation and keep the peace, the police seemed eager to paint the walls with blood, beating their opposition repeatedly with metal batons until they ceased movement altogether. It was a mosh pit, a massacre— complete insanity.

"Stay behind me," Marcus demanded, pushing his way through the angry herd.

Most men were easy to maneuver around and slip by unnoticed, many of them were too distracted fighting one another to pay any attention to us. However, every now and then, one of them would block our path, and engage Marcus in combat. One after another, every police officer, and guard who dared to challenge him were easily defeated. Marcus was agile, and flexible, but most importantly, his attacks packed power. He fought like he was born for it, putting on a beautiful display elegant kicks, and lightning fast jabs, knocking his opponents senseless with seemingly little effort.

By some miracle, we successfully fought our way through the crowd, and made it to the loading dock unharmed. There wasn't a truck in sight however, just a bunch of boxes lying about, and long rows of forklifts stationed against the wall. The warehouse's massive garage doors leading to the parking lot were wide open, but oddly enough, there weren't any vehicles to be found outside either.

"What the fuck?" Marcus muttered under his breath. "The cargo was just here. Where the fuck did it go?"

"Maybe the container Wrench was loaded inside is already in transport?" I asked. "The truck couldn't have gotten far. C'mon." We hustled toward the parking lot. However, the heavy, steel garage doors promptly fell shut, locking us inside.

"Going somewhere?" Hearing Quinn's dry, dull voice sent a shiver down my spine.

Marcus and I turned around, and spotted Quinn. He stood a short distance away from us, hands tucked within the pockets of his slacks. The moment Marcus locked eyes on Quinn, they both swiftly drew their handguns on each other.

Quietly, Marcus and Quinn sized up one another, their fingers hovered over the trigger of their firearms, prepared to shoot if necessary.

"Where is Wrench?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.

"Gone," Quinn answered, a smug smile tugged at his lips. "And you're never going to find him."

* * *

 **Poor Wrench T_T. Watch dogs is a great series, and I decided to write this work when I realized the lack of fan fictions written for it. I was actually upset over the lack of variety, and the fact that there are NO Sitara/Marcus fan fictions. And if there are, I have yet to find them lol. Is there anyone else that's bothered by this? I can't be the only one.**

 **Being an aspiring romance writer with a deep love for the series, I decided I had to write a multi-chapter fic for the pair. And because there are so little fics to choose from, I have decided start to working on a collection of one-shots between Marcus and Sitara, and possibly other characters if someone makes a request! Tell me what you want to read, people! Leave a review, or send me a message, and I'll do my best to respond as quickly as possible.**

 **Thanks for sticking around for my rant lol.** **I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, leave a review if you liked. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you so much for reading. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sitara**

Fingers curled around the trigger of their firearms and prepared to shoot, Marcus and Quinn held one another at gunpoint. Both men were fully aware of the severity of the situation, it only took a slight squeeze of the trigger to end a life. Also, the warehouse was still in complete turmoil due to the ongoing brawl between the cops and the guards. Amazingly, they appeared to be cool, collected and focused, as if they had stared into the face of death far too many times to be fazed by it now.

"Where is Wrench?" Marcus asked, his glare locked on Quinn.

"Gone," Quinn answered, a smug smile tugged at his lips. "And you're never going to find him."

A twinge of hatred flared in Marcus' eyes. Fueled by anger and contempt, his voice grew cold, and harsh. "You wouldn't be the first smug fuck to underestimate me. I'm not gonna ask you again— where the fuck is he?"

A quick, disgusted snort escaped Quinn. "I'm not one to be easily intimidated. Quite frankly, you're not as scary as you think you are. I've danced this dance countless times."

"This ain't my first tango either, and it won't be the last, motherfucker."

"Arrogance is blind to the stumbling block, Marcus. You pull that trigger and we both know how this ends. You shoot, I shoot, we both die. Or we can simply continue with our pointless standoff until the police escort us out in handcuffs. Either way, we both lose. However, I can propose a more suitable scenario that'll benefit the both of us, if you'll indulge me."

Marcus glared at Quinn for a moment in silence contemplation. "Alright, you've got my attention."

"We go our separate ways, and live to fight another day," Quinn said. "That way, you can pursue your pathetic, deluded fantasy of saving your friend, and I can go about my business. Dying here won't accomplish anything." He leveled his blank, empty gaze on me. "You wouldn't want to leave the pretty girl here to fend for herself, would you? I gander the fragile thing wouldn't last long without you."

"Screw you," I muttered. I wasn't some delicate little girl constantly in need of saving, I could handle my own. Although, I hated to admit it, but in a sense, Quinn was right. Marcus was my everything. How would I find the strength to go on in this terrible world without him by my side? I wasn't too stubborn and headstrong to realize how much I needed him.

My gut knotted tightly at the thought of losing him. I clung to Marcus, and held him tightly from behind, hiding behind his broad shoulders to shield myself from Quinn's unnerving, icy gaze. His rich brown gaze darted to me, and softened for only a moment, before diverting his full, undivided attention back to Quinn.

"So, what will it be?" Quinn asked. "Shall we kill one another here, or…"

"We lower our guns on the count of three," Marcus demanded. "Smooth and slow— any sudden movements, and you're dead."

Quinn nodded stiffly. "Very well."

Marcus started the countdown. Once he muttered 'three', gradually and very cautiously, they both began to lower their weapons.

"I figured you for the reasonable sort," Quinn stated.

"This ain't over," Marcus replied. "I will find you, no matter how long it takes."

He smirked, and turned away. "I wouldn't dawdle if I were you. The clock is ticking, the more time you waste here, the less your chances of finding your friend alive."

* * *

Once Quinn made his exit, Marcus and I slipped out the warehouse undetected, and was fortunate enough to hack and steal a getaway car from the parking lot without attracting any unwanted attention.

The drive back to the hackerspace was uncomfortably silent, however. Marcus wouldn't say a word. There was tightness in his expression, and his brown eyes were intense, and boiling with anger. And his face— there were small cuts scattered across his cheeks and forehead. His muscular arms were damaged and bruised as well. He had been through so much today, and I wanted to console him, but I didn't have the strength. I was exhausted, and I needed comfort just as badly as he did.

I couldn't stop thinking about Wrench, and all the horrible things those people could be doing to him. It was hard to believe people could be so shitty, every single one of them deserved to rot in Hell. We were going to make them pay, we just had figure out how.

Josh greeted us at the hackerspace's metal entrance, just before the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of Marcus' disheveled appearance. "Marcus? Are you okay? What happened?"

"We got fucked, that's what happened," Marcus snapped, and brushed past Josh, descending the staircase.

Josh gazed at me. "Where's Wrench? Why isn't he with you guys?"

My stomach hardened. "He's gone, Josh."

"G-gone? What do you mean?"

"The human shit-bags at the warehouse took him—"

"Sitara!" Cindy appeared, and raced up the stairs into my arms.

"Cindy?" I gasped. I could hardly believe my eyes. "What the friggin' heck are you doing here?"

"Why haven't you been returning my calls?" Cindy asked, avoiding my question. "I called you like a bajillion times—"

 ** _Boom! Crash!_**

The noise of objects being thrown and tossed about the hackerspace stole our attention. Cindy cringed, and slipped behind me for shelter.

"What's going on down there?" She asked. "Is that your boyfriend? What's the matter with him?"

"Boyfriend?" Josh gazed at me. "You and Marcus are official?"

I had to fight back a blush before answering him. Referring to Marcus as my 'boyfriend' was going to take some getting used to. "Um, yeah, we're official. So guys, would you mind giving me some space so I can talk to Marcus?"

"W-we don't have time for that Sitara," Josh stammered. "If what you said about Wrench is true, the first twelve to twenty-four hours is the most critical. The longer we take, the less likely for a positive outcome—"

"I know Josh." I paused to let out a sigh, and touched a hand to my forehead. I could feel a migraine coming on, the stress and worry regarding Wrench's safety was weighing heavily on me. It was so hard to keep it together. But I had to, for his sake. "It'll just be a second, okay? I promise."

Josh nodded. "Be quick, Sitara. We'll be in the game shop."

Once Josh and Cindy departed, I descended the stairs into the hackerspace in search for Marcus. I spotted him leaning over the Wrench Bench, nostrils flared, and muscles and veins straining against his flustered skin. Unable to contain his rage, he had reduced our home into a complete wreck. The couch had been kicked aside, and the fold-up table was flipped over, leaving all the empty coffee cups, energy drinks, and days old strawberry cream donuts we had carelessly forgotten about scattered across the floor. There was also a gaping hole in the wall just above Wrench's Bench.

Whenever random dents in the plaster walls appeared throughout the hackerspace, Wrench was always the culprit. He was known to lose his temper every now and then, and took it upon himself to repair the damage he caused during his reckless tantrums. This hole however, was much too wide and deep to be his handiwork. Marcus had to be responsible.

I warily approached him, studying him closely. He was fueled with anger, he was practically trembling. Marcus was always so relaxed, rarely did he ever lose his cool. And when he did, he'd just curse up a storm, but remained level-headed, no matter the odds. To witness him like this, so distressed and furious… it was frightening.

Although, I couldn't blame him for being upset. It hurt that Wrench was taken, and I wanted nothing more than to have him back, but the pain and loss I felt was nothing compared to Marcus'. Marcus and Wrench were thick as thieves, they were the best of friends with an unbreakable bond. If there was anything I could do to alleviate Marcus' despair, I was more than happy to do so.

"Marcus?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay," he snapped, and pounded his fist against the Wrench's bench, causing it to shake violently. "Wrench is gone! Those motherfuckers took him, and I couldn't do shit about it."

"You need to calm down. Throwing a tantrum won't help anything."

Marcus didn't respond, he merely shook his head. I tapped his shoulder. He flinched, and whirled around to face me.

I spotted a wide blood stain on the side of his white t-shirt. The bloody spot was conspicuously large, and certainly wasn't there on the drive back to the hackerspace, I would have noticed it then. My heart skipped a beat. It looked… fresh.

"Marcus, are you bleeding?" I asked.

He remained silent. He wouldn't look at me— his deep brown eyes were fixed to the ground, his gaze wet, distant and dull. Careful not to startle him this time around, I slowly reached out to him, and gripped his bloody shirt. Thankfully, he didn't recoil, and allowed me to remove his shirt entirely without protest.

There was a lengthy gash on the side of his stomach, blood slowly seeped down from the open wound, and dripped onto the waistband of his jeans. I winced at the sight of the hemorrhage, the laceration was so wide and gaping, it definitely needed stitches, which was far out of my field of expertise. God, it must had been so painful. Marcus seemed to be completely unfazed by it, too immersed in woe over Wrench to be bothered by physical discomfort.

Fortunately for us, there was a first aid kit lying on the floor by the couch. I swept it into my arms, and scavenged through it for something— anything I could use to help stop the bleeding. Where did the wound even come from? My nerves were on edge, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It felt like forever before I fished out bandages.

"I have this bad feeling in my gut," he said quietly, his voice choked with emotion. "The same feeling I had when we found out Horatio was taken by the Tezcas. I know how this ends. Everything is so fucked…"

"Shh, just relax," I replied as I wrapped his wound with gauze. I didn't know what else to do with a cut so large, and there was no time to see a doctor. Hopefully the gauze alone would be enough to hold him over for a while. "Things are going to be different this time, we're not going to lose Wrench. Do you hear me? We're not going to lose him. Take a sec' to calm down. I know it's hard, but you have to, for Wrench's sake."

He shook his head, my words seemed to go through one ear and out the other. "I-I can't do this again, I just can't. I've been seeing shit girl, hallucinating about blood, and all kinds of fucked up shit. There's something wrong with me—"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Marcus," I said. "You're just overwhelmed, you've been through so much. Look at me, hun."

He sniffed, his dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears. Despite the crippling grief tugging at his heart, Marcus found the strength to lift, and settle his gaze on me. Despite the terrible timing, I found myself distracted by the shirtless, beautiful, vulnerable man who stood before me. He wept with style, silently gem-shaped tears escaped his radiant brown eyes, and rolled down his flustered cheeks, glistening like sapphires in the light, before disappearing below his sculpted jawline.

I took hold of his glasses, and carefully slipped them from the bridge of his strong nose, freeing his eyes from the thick lenses which shielded them. This way, I could marvel at his beauty in its entirety, my fingertips gently wiped away the wetness staining his handsome face. It was so easy to get lost in his gaze, the subtle hues of bronze in his pupils were mesmerizing.

I hated to witness Marcus hurting. My desire to comfort my lover and best friend spiraled higher and higher with every second that passed. Clearly, words weren't working, so I gravitated toward him, my palm smoothed over the broad planes of his chest, down to his hard, chiseled abdomen. His woodsy scent filled my senses, drawing me closer and closer, until the distance between us was erased completely. I knew I had to find some way to calm him down, and quick— time was wasting. Wrench was depending on us, and we needed Marcus' to be fully focused, and ready to work.

I wrapped my arms around him, and pressed my lips to corner of his mouth, boldly kissing my way down to his strong neck, tasting the saltiness of sweat and tears on the tip of my tongue. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away beneath my touch, crumbling his resistance. I caressed his skin passionately, teeth nibbling on the hollow of his throat, lips sucking sloppily on his sensitive flesh, tormenting him. His breath quickened, and he flushed, blood rising beneath his prominent cheekbones.

I wasn't aware of all Marcus' kinks, my guess was he had a bunch, but there was one I knew for sure, he liked things rough. So, I played on that, my nails raked his firm back, all the while silently praying that I didn't end up hurting him, and making things even worse.

"Fuck," Marcus grumbled, abruptly pulling away, his muscles quivering. The sudden distance between us made my heart sink. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his flustered face. "Shit… we shouldn't be doing this right now. The fuck is the matter with us?"

My cheeks burned with shame. I sighed, and hugged my legs to my chest. "U-um, sorry," I mumbled. "It's my fault. I wanted to make you feel better so we could focus on finding Wrench…"

"I know, baby. I'm just…" He paused, rubbing his sore, watery eyes. "You're right, I'm fucking overwhelmed. I can't believe this shit is happening again."

I beckoned Marcus closer with the wave of a hand, and carefully settled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe it either," I frowned.

"Hey, how'd you and Wrench end up at that warehouse in the first place?"

"Some creep Wrench used to know gave us a lead the gunmen who crashed our beach party. His name is Giovanni, and he's kind of a big deal in the black-market gun trade. Apparently, he does business with Quinn."

"Take me to him," Marcus demanded.

* * *

The penthouse's patio had a much different ambiance than earlier today when Wrench and I met Giovanni for the first time. It was quiet, no maids, nor guards patrolled the deck. The patio was cloaked in the shadows of night. There was no sign of Giovanni— if it weren't for the gentle, midnight breeze, and the pitter-patter of our careful footsteps, there would be complete silence.

Giovanni must be inside, probably sleeping considering how late it was. With no guards to stop us, Marcus and I hacked into the ctOS box on the side of his house with ease, and unlocked the glass sliding doors leading inside.

Where were the guards anyhow? I was glad they weren't around, but a guy like Giovanni was bound to have enemies. If I were him, I'd have men patrolling the area all through the night. Better safe than sorry. It was odd, I didn't expect him to be so sloppy.

Gun in hand, Marcus cautiously slipped into the penthouse through the front, glass sliding door. I followed close behind. Although the goal was to find Giovanni and get out as quickly as possible, I found myself distracted by the sleek decor and elegance of his home. It was modern, tidy and upscale— the living room being the grandest, and most breathtaking section of the house. A big, extravagant sectional sofa stretched far across the room, and in the center of the space was a vast, polished wood table. The soft, plush carpet was so clean, and damn near spotless, stepping on it with our shoes left behind a mucky residue.

There were various pictures of landscape on the wall, all of them beautifully symmetrical, and elegantly hand painted. The gorgeous artwork would have been much easier to admire if it wasn't so dark. The shadows of the night hugged every corner of the home.

"Damn, this guy has a nice pad," Marcus muttered between clenched teeth, his palm probed his injured stomach. He attempted to take a tentative step forward, but lost his balance. I skipped in front of him just in time, and stopped his fall.

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding him up. The thought of him abruptly passing out had my nerves on edge. "You're losing a lot of blood, Marcus. Maybe we should turn around—"

"I'm good," he slowly regained his composure, and pulled away. "Let's split up, I'm gonna find Giovanni and see if I can make him sing. He's probably upstairs catching z's. You should take a look around for anything that might help us find Wrench."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? What if you need back-up? You're hurt."

"I'm cool, girl. Don't worry." He feigned a smile. "We're strapped for time, and we got a lot of ground to cover. C'mon, let's hurry up and get this done. You with me?"

I nodded. "I'm with you, but I don't like this plan. Not one bit."

He reached his pistol out to me. "I know guns ain't your style, but the DedSec channel is down. We can't keep in contact. So, if shit goes south, don't be afraid to use this."

I grabbed the handgun. "Thanks, but what about you? This is the only gun we have."

"It's all good, I got my Thunderball."

Marcus gripped onto his signature weapon— the black, metallic ball dangling from his messenger bag by it's green, paracord rope. He bounced the heavy sphere in the palm of his hand a few times. It was a peculiar weapon of choice, but in his grasp, it proved deadly. Due to his skill and precise handling of the rope, Marcus could perform powerful attacks with the blunt ball attached to the end, at a frightening speed.

Still, I couldn't stop eyeing his bloodied sweater. The gaping wound on his stomach was leaking through the gauze, and staining his clothes. How much longer could he go on like that before he collapses? How on Earth was I going to get Wrench back without his help?

I shook my head. "This was a stupid idea, Marcus. We should have gone to a doctor first, you need medical attention. You can't go on much longer like this—"

He pressed a finger to my lips, and flashed a sweet smile. "We got this, alright? Everything is gonna be okay, just focus on the end-game— finding Wrench. I shut down all the laser tripwires and sensors, you should be able to get around without any problems. Come find me as soon as you're done poking around, alright?"

He seemed so relaxed, and unworried, despite the mounting odds we were facing. I had a terrible feeling about letting him go on his own. I hated the idea of us splitting up without having the DedSec channel to keep in touch as well, but there was no getting through to Marcus once his mind was set on something. I sighed, and managed to form a tight smile. "Be careful, handsome."

"Aren't I always?" Marcus smirked, and turned away, disappearing into the shadows.

Cautiously, I began to pan the home for anything suspicious. Using my cell phone as a light source, I hustled about the spacious living room, shuffling through drawers, closets, and dressers. I didn't find anything out of the ordinary however, just booklets, clothes and loose change.

I took a sharp right at the end of the living room, and entered another room. It was absolutely cloaked in darkness, if it wasn't for the help of my phone's flashlight, I wouldn't had been able to see a thing.

After a moment or so of flashing light into the blackness, I realized it was a tidy, white bedroom. It was much too small and plain to be the master bedroom, it contained only the bare necessities needed for guests— a twin-sized bed, a closet, and a wooden end table paired with a lamp. I stepped into the darkness and attempted to rummage through the closet, but the door wouldn't budge. It was secured tight with an electronic lock. What was Giovanni hiding in there?

Marcus had the access key to the home's security system. I needed his help to get the door open. I whirled around to head for the exit, and slammed into a hard, tall figure instead. I let out a yelp, and shuddered with surprise, my phone and gun slipped from my fingers, tumbling to the floor. Heart hammering against my chest, my hand involuntarily curled into a fist, and I sent a jab toward the asswipe blocking my path.

"Damn girl!" The figure captured my fist before it made impact. "It's me, Marcus! Chill out!"

"Marcus?" My cheeks burned with heat. "What's your friggin' problem? Do you see how dark it is? Why'd you sneak up on me?"

"Shh," he whispered. "My bad, I didn't mean to scare you. But I don't regret it, you should have saw the look on your face. You were petrified." He bent over, scooping up my fallen phone and pistol.

I snatched my possessions from him. "You're such an ass sometimes. Did you find Giovanni?"

"I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I know where to find Quinn. The bad news is, I found Giovanni. Well technically, I found what was left of him."

"What?" I blinked.

"Check this out."

He held his phone out to me. On the bright screen was a gory photo of a bathtub, filled with so much blood, it was practically overflowing. There was a bloodstained saw on the edge of the tub, and something appeared to be floating within the crimson red fluid. It looked like human body parts, severed legs and arms—

"Jesus," I exclaimed, gazing away from the gruesome picture. "You found that upstairs?"

"Yeah," Marcus frowned. "Whoever did this sick shit is still around here somewhere. They're butchering the body to cover up the murder. Listen, we need to get the fuck outta' here, now."

"Wait," I pointed at the closet. "There's something in there, but it's locked, and I don't have the access key."

Marcus about-faced, and hacked the door's electronic lock, allowing us entry. We tip-toed to the closet, and spotted a small, square, metal safe lying on the floor. Although miniature sized, the safe's metal was heavy duty, and shut fast, trying to pry it open would be pointless. There was, however, a keypad in the center, but we needed the code if there was any hope in getting it open.

"Hmm," Marcus grumbled, tapping away at his phone. "Giovanni really went the extra mile to secure this shit. I might be able to release the lock remotely…"

"Aw, what's the matter?" I teased. "Can't hack an itty-bity safe? Need me to take the reins?"

"Hell nah, this is child's play. Give me a sec'."

 ** _Thump. Thump. Thump._**

The sound of boots pounding against the carpeted floor echoed throughout the quiet home. Marcus was right, we weren't alone. It was hard to tell whether the footsteps were heading our way or not. But I wasn't taking any chances. I aimed my gun at the bedroom entrance, prepared to shoot.

"Got it," Marcus declared. The safe clicked open. He knelt before it, and reached inside, rooting through its contents.

"God, I hope there's something good in there," I mumbled. "Please make this worth it."

"Well, there's guns, like a shitload of gold-plated magnums. Think we can pawn a few of them? The guy is dead, I doubt he'd care. Oh, what's this?" Marcus fished out an old flip phone from the safe. "Holy shit, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid. You can't find these anywhere—"

 ** _Thump! Thump! Thump!_**

The footsteps were getting much louder now. There was an eerie, creaking noise coming from overhead as well. God knows how many creeps were lurking within the house with us. Marcus quietly closed the safe, and clasped my wrist, lowering my gun.

"Don't waste the bullet, too loud," he muttered. "Go hide."

I ducked into the shadows, and took cover behind the bed. Marcus hugged his back to the wall just beside the bedroom entrance, silently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A masked man whisked into the room, with a black rifle strapped to his back, equipped with a long suppressor. The moment he stepped through the door, Marcus locked his arm around his neck. With his airflow constricted, he struggled soundlessly, attempting to wrangle himself free, but to no avail. It wasn't long before he was overpowered by Marcus' brute strength. His body went limp, and he was drawn into a deep sleep. Marcus set him down on the floor gently, quietly.

Marcus seized the unconscious man's rifle, and threw it over his shoulder. I emerged from the shadows and gravitated to him.

I gave the stiff body lying before us a firm kick, just for good measure. The murdering asshole deserved it. "Nice job, stud," I said.

"All in a day's work, m'lady," Marcus replied in his playful, refined accent. He eased past me, and returned to the safe. "And to the victor belongs the spoils—"

"Get away from my shit, ya' hooligans!" A lively voice with a thick, Italian accent filled the room.

Marcus and I froze in place. My blood ran cold.

"T-the fuck?" Marcus stammered. "Who just said that?"

"That sounded just like Giovanni," I swallowed deeply. "But he's dead… right?"

"I'm not dead, you idiots," the voice replied. "There's an intercom behind the broad, mounted to the wall. Let's talk."

I about-faced, and shined a beam of light on the wall. There was a small intercom built into the wall, just as the voice instructed. Marcus pulled away from the safe, and stepped over to the intercom. "Uh, hello? Who are you?"

"The name's Giovanni, nice to meet ya'. Listen up, I got a target on my back, kid. Powerful people want me dead. I've gotten myself in a real pickle, and there's no way I can get out of it without your help. Be a good Samarian and help an old man out, will ya'? I'm trapped in my panic room for crying out loud! There's a metal door standing between me and the outside world, and the passcode to open it isn't working. I'll starve in here!"

"Damn, you really are in a pickle, man. What makes you think we can help you?"

"I got surveillance cameras set up all over the house, I can see everything. And I'm guessing since your hanging around with the sexy DedSec broad with legs for days, you must a hacker too, yeah? You did manage to get my safe open without breaking a sweat, wise guy. I gotta' feeling you have exactly what it takes to get me outta' here. I'm no cheapskate, you might make yourself a couple of G's in the process. Remember how you kids broke into my house and tried to steal my stuff? If you can get the job done, I won't tell a soul. I'll sweep it all under the rug. So, what do ya' say?"

"That's a sweet deal, but we don't care about the money, grandpa," I said. "If we save your ass, you have to tell us everything we want to know. Or else, you can rot in there for all we care."

"You're one cold-hearted bitch, I'll give ya' that." Giovanni sighed. "Fine, get the door open, and I'll sing like a bird. There's a secret passage behind the bookshelf in the living room. That's where you'll find the safe room door. And try not to attract any attention while you're at it. There's hired gunmen upstairs, all of em' too busy trying to bust into another one of my safe. They're the brawny type, all muscle, no brains. They may be a bunch of schmucks, but they won't be distracted forever, so make it snappy."

"Relax man," Marcus said. "We'll have you out of there before they realize a thing."

Huddled in a crouch, Marcus and I returned to the living room. There was a crapload of commotion coming from upstairs. The ceiling quaked with every boisterous crash and bang. All the loud noise was making me nervous, my muscles wouldn't stop twitching, and my head felt like it was going to explode.

"Over there," Marcus led the way to a tall, sturdy brown bookshelf positioned against the wall. The shelves were neatly stacked with a colorful arrangement of books and magazines. "We're gonna have to move this thing out of the way. Give me a hand girl."

Careful not to make much noise and draw attention to ourselves, we eased the bookshelf aside, revealing the bulky, metallic door Giovanni spoke of. Instead of a knob, there was a keypad. However, the tiny keys were damaged— someone had completely smashed them all in with brute force.

"Damn, someone really went berserk on this door," Marcus said.

"You think the busted keypad has something to do with Giovanni being trapped?" I asked.

"Hard to say, there could be numerous reasons the door won't open. One thing is for sure though, with the keypad all fucked up, it'll be a lot harder for us to get him out." He peered at a clunky, metal box attached to the doorframe. "Luckily for us, it looks like we're dealing with an electromagnetic lock. It needs an electrical current to remain functional. Without it, it's useless. Not very reliable in case of an emergency, huh?"

"Okay, you should cut out the power then. That should make the lock disengage."

"Yeah, a power outage should activate the fail-safe." Marcus gazed at his phone, and quickly got to work on getting the door open. "Keep a look-out while I get this done girl."

"You know, if Wrench's life wasn't on the line, I'd have no problem leaving Giovanni in there."

"Damn, that's cold. What did he ever do to you?"

"For one, if he never sold those guns to Quinn, the DedSec members we lost at the beach party would be alive right now. Too many lives were lost that night."

"True that, but I doubt Quinn told him what he was going to use the guns for. If he did, maybe Giovanni would had reconsidered doing the deal."

"Because black-market gun dealers are beacons of morality, right?" I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, this guy gives off major creep vibes. Can you believe he had the nerve to try and buy me from Wrench? For ten thousand?"

"What?" Marcus exclaimed playfully, his brows raised in disbelief. "Oh, no he didn't."

"Oh, yes he did. Like come on, who does that? Do I have a price tag on me? Do I look like some kind of cheap whore?"

"Nah, you look like a classy lady, a damn fine one at that. And if you did have a price tag, you'd be worth double— nah, triple what Giovanni offered."

"My body is a temple, Marcus. It can't be bought, okay? It takes love, affection, sweet nothings and a whole lot of cuddling to gain entry inside."

"And even then, it ain't guaranteed, because you're a strong, independent woman who don't need no man. You can change your mind at any given second, you got options girl. You don't have to settle for anyone but the best."

"You totally understand me." I pecked his cheek.

Although his attention was fully immersed in hacking the lock, he managed to steal a glance at me and smile. "All jokes aside, I'm not a very big fan of Giovanni either. He talks to you like you're a piece of meat, and I ain't down with that. But we need him, so play nice, alright?"

"I'll try—"

 ** _Click._** The lock abruptly disengaged.

Panting heavily, Giovanni barged through the door. Wearing nothing but a white bathrobe, he stumbled toward Marcus, and shamelessly captured him in his pudgy embrace.

"Thank you, thank you!" He squealed, his voice quaked with emotion. The old man's beady, blue eyes were practically tearing with gratitude. Overjoyed by his newfound freedom, he planted a huge smooch on Marcus' cheek. "You saved me! I don't know how ya' did it, but you're a genius, I tell ya'! The smartest guy that's ever lived!"

"Alright, alright," Marcus grinned awkwardly, and pulled away. "Enough with the mushy shit, pops. We're not in the clear yet."

"Damn right we aren't. It's time to make a stand." He snatched the rifle off Marcus' shoulder. "Those wise guys think they can just waltz into my home and steal all my shit? Forget about it! This is war."

* * *

 **Hope you guys liked the chapter! Sorry it's been so long since my last update, school has been hectic. Please leave a review if you enjoy my work, your feedback and suggestions mean the world to me. ^_^**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys! Its been a while since my last update, sorry for the wait. Enjoy the chapter! :D**

* * *

 **Marcus**

"This is war," Giovanni pushed us aside, and stormed out of the living room.

Sitara and I chased after him. He led us to a grand marble staircase, which twisted in a perfect spiral, it's railings made of sleek metal.

"Yo, hold up," I skipped in front of Giovanni, stopping his advance just before the stairs. "You sure you wanna go up there? It'll be you versus all of them. Your odds ain't looking too good, man."

"What?" Giovanni glared at us. "I thought you guys had my back?"

There was an awkward moment of silence between us. Sitara and I exchanged wary glances at one another.

"Charging blindly into a firefight wasn't part of the agreement," Sitara muttered.

"Yeah, I thought we had a deal man," I said. "We saved your ass in exchange for information—"

"Screw that, I've got thousands of dollars in valuables up there, and I'll be damned if I let those limp-dick, jack-asses steal all my shit. To Hell with the both of you pansies, I'll clear em' out myself." Rifle raised, Giovanni charged up the staircase.

Fuck, we had to help him. We needed Giovanni to cough up everything he knew, and there was no way he could do that if his crazy ass got himself killed.

"We gotta' do something," I glanced at Sitara. "If he dies, everything he knows dies with him."

"Okay, here," Sitara handed me back my pistol. "You're a better shot than I am."

I took the lead, cautiously ascending the steps with Sitara at my heels.

 ** _Bang! Bang!_**

The stutter of rapid, automatic gunfire exploded through the penthouse. Sitara and I quickened our pace up the stairs, the sound of bullets spraying through the air grew louder and louder with every step. Despite my worry for Giovanni's safety, I knew better than to stroll carelessly into a dangerous situation. I halted just before the final step of the spiral staircase, and took a cautious peek of what lied ahead.

Before us was a dark, narrow hall with hardwood doors on each side. I spotted Giovanni slowly advancing toward the end of the hall with his rifle raised, shooting short bursts of blind gunfire into the darkness ahead.

"You thieving cock-suckers thought you were gonna rub me out, didn't ya'?" Giovanni roared over the blaring noise of his gun, grinning ear to ear. "Thought you were gonna' steal all my shit and get away with it? Guess again, fuckers! You're all gonna' die tonight, every single one of you…"

Giovanni continued to rant and rave like a mad-man.

"Geez, can the guy make his presence any more obvious?" Sitara mumbled. "He's just begging to get himself killed."

Unfazed by Giovanni's threats, a barrage of bullets suddenly erupted from the darkness, firing back at him, wiping the smug smile right off his face. A high pitch scream of terror escaped him. Panicking, he danced in place frantically as bullets rapidly glanced past him.

Without thinking, I lunged from the safety of cover and charged into him at full speed. We collided with a hardwood door.

 ** _Crash!_**

The door crumbled in our wake, breaking from its hinges entirely. Giovanni and I took a nose-dive through the doorway and onto the sleek, marble floors of large bathroom. A sharp ache erupted in my side from the rough fall. The pain from my open wound wasn't letting up…

"Marcus!" Sitara called out over the gunfire. "Are you okay? Say something!"

"I'm good!" I replied between clenched teeth. Doing my best to ignore the pain, I forced myself into a stance.

"Fucking Hell, we're still alive," Giovanni grumbled as he slowly rose to his feet. "Stop saving my ass so much, will ya'? You're making me look like a pussy out there."

"Actually, you're doing a pretty good job making a pussy out of yourself, man."

Giovanni glared at me. "Yeah, yeah— fuck you, wise guy. What are we going to do now?"

"Just follow my lead."

Giovanni and I took cover on each side of the door, and took a glimpse into the hall. The gunfire was unrelenting, however. We were only able to take a small peek into the darkness before being forced back behind cover.

We managed poke our guns through the doorway to fire rounds back at our opposition, but it was hopeless. It was impossible to get a clear shot while pinned down like this. They had visibility, a better arsenal, and greater numbers on their side.

"This is suicide!" Sitara shouted in the distance. "We need to get out of here!"

"Over my dead body!" Giovanni retorted. "I'm not leaving without my shit!"

"Calm the fuck down, I can't think," I muttered. Realizing we were outmanned, and outgunned, I had to improvise. I drew my phone and hacked the lights, brightening the hall. With our newfound visibility, I hacked a nearby security camera, and obtained a clear, elevated view of the entire lengthy hallway. Four masked gunmen armed with assault rifles were closing in on us. Huddled in close formation, they appeared well-trained, gradually inching closer and closer.

Giovanni's sight darted to me. "Are you nuts? Is now really the time to be checking your phone? I need cover fire, damn it!"

I rooted through my messenger bag, and fished out an Electro-shock device. "Relax, I got this."

He smirked. "You're one crafty son of a bitch."

"You know it." I hurled the device down the hall.

"Grenade!" A grainy voice shouted. The hail of fire came to an abrupt stop, and the four men turned away to flee for cover. With their formation broken, Giovanni and I pulled from cover, and unloaded our ammunition into their backs, ending them before they could get away. Blood and brain matter splattered onto the white walls, and stained the marble flooring.

"About time we got that over with, I was running low on ammo," Giovanni tossed his rifle aside, and pried a new one from the cold, dead fingers of one of the men lying before us. "Excuse me a sec' kid, I gotta get one of my guys on the line to clean up this mess. And I could really use a drink. Meet me downstairs, will ya'? We've got a lot to discuss."

He took off for the staircase.

"Marcus!" Sitara ran into my arms and captured me in her tight embrace. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good girl," I kissed her forehead.

Her glance settled on the bloody corpses lying at our feet. She winced, the blood draining from her face. She pulled away from me.

"You alright?" I asked, my brows furrowed.

"T-they're dead," she stammered. "Did you… kill them? Or Giovanni?"

"We both did," I frowned, peering at their broken bodies. "Neither of us had much of a choice. It was us, or them."

"I know, it's just—"

"Are you kids coming, or not?" Giovanni called from downstairs. "I don't got all day."

Sitara sighed. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" She turned away and descended the steps. I swallowed deeply, a pang of guilt invaded my chest.

We joined Giovanni on the white leather couch in his beautifully decorated living room. With the bottom level of his penthouse still in pristine condition, it was a little easier to forget about the crazy ass gunfight we had a moment ago. Besides the corpses, we left the upper level of his home in shitty condition. The walls were riddled with bullet holes, and practically on the verge of crumbling. Don't get me started with the amount of shell casings we left all over the place.

I figured Giovanni would be pissed about the property damages, and almost getting killed— he had a pretty shitty day after all. But he seemed relaxed, lounging on his couch with his feet kicked up on the table, expensive wine glass in hand, sipping alcohol as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"So, this is about Quinn, isn't it?" He gazed at me.

"He took Wrench," I replied. "We need to find him. Dude, if you know anything about Quinn, or Wrench's whereabouts, you gotta tell us."

Giovanni sighed heavily. "A real shame. He was a good kid. Wrenchie-boy and the broad came by asking about Quinn earlier today—"

"Why do you keep talking about me as if I'm not even here?" Sitara asked. "I have a name, you know? And it's not broad."

"Princess, I don't give two damns what your name is," Giovanni snapped, his relaxed demeanor quickly warped into rage. He shot up from his seat and towered over Sitara, his wrinkled, pudgy face reddening with anger.

I slipped between them, and nudged Giovanni away from her. "Yo, be cool man. The fuck is wrong with you? She risked her life saving you, show her some fucking respect."

"Respect?" Giovanni grinned. "You hacking little shits don't deserve respect. This is all your fault. It's no coincidence that a few hours after I was blackmailed by that whore to rat on Quinn, some wise guys show up at my door trying to rub me out. If it wasn't for any of you fools, I wouldn't have a hit out on my head. I'm a fucking dead man!" He flung his expensive wine glass across the room, the fragile cup shattered to pieces once it collided with the wall. "It's only a matter of time. After they're done with me, you two are next. I've seen it happen too many times."

"Nah, we won't let that happen—"

He shook his head. "You nerds don't got what it takes. DedSec are watchdogs, damn good ones at that, but bringing all their shady shit into the light won't change anything. They thrive off fear, the more people who are scared, the stronger they become. They're filthy rich too, paying off police officers and gangs to do their dirty work. DedSec doesn't have a chance—"

"I don't have time for this shit," I grumbled. "Do you know where we can find Quinn or not? You owe us answers, pops. I know he was your business partner."

"Calm your cohones, tough guy," Giovanni muttered. "Look, luckily for you, Quinn got in contact with me shortly before the armed thugs made their grand debut. He said to get out of town, that the Red Eagles were coming after me. That's how I made it to my safe room without a scratch."

"Who's the Red Eagles?" I asked.

"Some kind of secret organization Quinn works for. I don't know much about em', but the name carries a lot of weight on the street. No fuckin' clue why, but it makes people shit their pants."

"If he's working for them, why would he warn you that they're coming?" Sitara asked.

"Not sure, maybe he likes this old mug more than he lets on," Giovanni shrugged his shoulders. "He said he knew I ratted him out to DedSec, and went on with some mumbo-jumbo about the outcome being evitable. He told me he was the fall guy for the casualties DedSec caused at the warehouse, and that his people want him dead because of it."

Giovanni strolled over to his bookcase, and pulled a thick, red book from the top shelf. He flipped through the book and withdrew a small, white card hidden between the pages. "Here, if Quinn's people have Wrenchie-boy, then this where you'll find him."

Sitara and I took Giovanni's side and studied the card. 'Danton and Smith's storage facility' was etched across it in black ink. On the back of it was an address outside the city.

"A couple months ago, I met Quinn at a bar to discuss business. He got a little buzzed, and let some truths slip— mentioned somethin' about his less desirable product being transported from his warehouse to Danton and Smith until there's a confirmed buyer," Giovanni continued. "Apparently it was too risky storing the good stuff in the city, but that facility is far on the country side. Less room for complications."

"That's assuming Wrench falls into the less desirable category," Sitara said. "What if he doesn't?"

"Trust me sweetheart, in Quinn's line of business, women and children are in high demand," Giovanni replied. "They're easy to subdue, and just as easy to sell. Grown men are usually more trouble than they're worth."

"Well, thanks for the cringy as fuck human trafficking tips," I took the business card off Giovanni's hands. "Hopefully this leads us to Wrench."

"Yeah, the scrawny kid deserves better. Go find em', will ya'?"

"For sure. You should take Quinn's advice— pack up and get somewhere safe."

"No thanks, I'll be here enjoying my time while it lasts." Giovanni returned to the couch, and laid his rifle across his lap. "Never been much of a runner. This is where I belong."

"You don't have to give up, man. If you do that, you're letting them win."

"Look at me kid. I've lived a long life, I've done everything, I've been everywhere. I'm tired now." He waved at us dismissively. "Now clear out before more Red Eagle muscle show up. You kids got your whole lives ahead of you, try not to get yourselves killed so soon."

* * *

Soft beads of nighttime rain tapped against the car's windshield as Sitara cruised along an empty expressway, with me in the passenger seat. We've been on the road for three hours now, and the small, silver Chevrolet we were in was beginning to feel cramped. It would have been nice to stretch my legs, but there was no way I was getting out the car. We were far out of my comfort zone— surrounded by dark, shadowy woods, and the wild grass and tall trees hugging the roadside seemed like night and day compared to the city. There was hardly any traffic to compete with, which was somewhat unsettling, but I was grateful for it. Although our headlights bathed the black road in light, the dark, cloudy skies and downpour made for terrible visibility.

We stopped at a pharmacy to pick up medical supplies for my wounds before leaving San Francisco behind. Good thing we did too, because I had a fuckton of cuts and abrasions that needed attention, especially the graze on my stomach.

Sitara agreed to take the wheel while I mended my injuries. I managed to stitch the wound on my stomach closed, which turned out to be the longest, most grueling process I've ever done in my life. Not to mention, it hurt like a motherfucker. Performing surgery on myself while in a moving car wasn't the smartest idea, but we were too strapped for time to do otherwise.

The address Giovanni provided was located before the border of Oregon, a couple of miles or so from Redding. It was going to be a long, risky drive. There was no way to be absolutely sure Wrench or Quinn would even be there. All we had was Giovanni's word, and no other leads, besides the name 'Red Eagles', which wasn't much help. I filled Josh in about our findings shortly after we left the penthouse, maybe he could do some research and help us piece things together. It was a long shot, but I had to keep my hopes up for Wrench's sake.

Although, it was getting harder and harder to do so. I felt weak and woozy, keeping my eyes open was a struggle. I wasn't sure if I was just tired, or if it was due to blood loss, but I was too afraid to sleep in case it was the latter. What if I didn't wake up? I didn't want to leave Sitara alone, at least not yet. We had to find Wrench first. I had to know for sure that they were both safe before resting became an option.

Staring blankly at the road and listening to the raindrops was making me even more drowsy, however. I turned on the car radio, a lively electronic tempo filled the air.

"Turn that crap off," Sitara muttered.

"Why?" I asked. "I thought you loved electronica?"

"Not anymore." She reached over and shut the radio off. "I rather listen to the rain. It's like a sad melody, ominous, but beautiful. No matter how much chaos and disorder is in my life, rain is always the same. It's hard to explain, but there's something so calming about it."

"Yeah, but it's putting a brother to sleep. I'm trying to stay awake here."

She glanced at me. "Marcus? You hanging in there okay, stud? Why don't you get some sleep? I think we're almost there, but you can fit in a power nap."

"Nah, it's cool. I'm good."

"How's your wound?"

"It still hurts like shit, but the bleeding stopped. So I guess that's something."

"Can I ask you a question?"

I nodded. "Sure, you can ask me anything baby."

"How do you think this is going to end? Seriously, no sugar-coating. Do you think we'll find Wrench alive? Do you think we'll even live long enough to find him at all? Do you think that maybe, he could be—"

"Don't say it." My stomach dropped.

"He could be dead by now, and we couldn't do anything to stop it." Her delicate eyes grew watery. "What if he's dead?"

My muscles tightened. "Stop it, he's not dead. You can't think like that. You're in the wrong mental space girl, shrug that shit off. You're stronger than that—"

"No!" Sitara shouted, her body trembled with anxiety. She pounded her shaking fists against the steering wheel. "Just stop it, okay? I'm not as strong as you think I am. I'm trying to be realistic here. What if he's already gone?"

I glared at her. "So what? You sayin' that this is all pointless? That we should turn around and run home after how far we've come? After all the shit we've been through to get here?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Marcus."

"It sure as fuck sounds like it. Wrench is fucking family girl. I'm not giving up on him. Fuck that."

"I'm not giving up on him either—"

"Bullshit."

"You're such a friggin' asshole." Sitara's voice quaked with emotion. Tears rushed from her swollen eyes, staining her cheeks. "I was just asking a question, you don't have to be such a douche about it."

I sighed, a pang of guilt struck me watching her cry. "My bad, I didn't mean to—"

"Fuck you," she sneered. "Wrench was family to me long before you stepped into the picture. I'd give anything to have him back. If I was planning on giving up on him, I wouldn't be out here with you, hungry and tired, in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, would I? So you can shove that holier-than-thou bullshit up your ass."

Sitara's green glittering eyelid twitched with frustration. I smirked. She looked so adorable when she was pissed, her pillowy lips pouted, and her small button nosed flared. Every now and then, I got lost admiring her beautiful heart-shaped face. No matter how harshly her words burned when I got on her bad side, she always looked so sweet and harmless.

Sitara bounced her legs up and down absentmindedly with anxiety, her thick, toned thighs swayed freely with motion. Although I knew better than to bother her while she was irritable, I couldn't resist touching her tanned leg. She abruptly swatted my hand.

"Don't even try it," she muttered.

"Have I ever told you how good you look when you're mad?" I teased. "Over there lookin' like a five-star platter of somethin' sweet and sour— I could just eat you up girl. Come over here and give your man some sugar."

She chuckled, her nose wrinkled in protest. "Stop it, dweeb. Your stupid compliments aren't going to work."

"Aw, don't be like that." I brushed a thumb over her high, curved cheekbones, wiping away her tears. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I know you wouldn't throw Wrench under the bus like that. I ain't coping too well with him gone, you know?"

She took a moment or so to respond, the pinned-up aggression and tension inside her slowly withered away. "Do you remember when we first met?"

I smiled at the thought of it. "How could I forget? It felt fucking good planting a backdoor in Blume's servers. Then I got to meet you and the rest of the team— my life has never been the same since, in the best way."

"Remember how we partied the night away on that beach?" She smiled weakly. "The bay was so beautiful that night. And that speech you made was so inspiring, I felt like DedSec could take over the world. You've always had a strong sense of leadership."

"I aim to please. But truth be told, I was drunk as fuck that night. I can hardly remember any of the shit I was going on about. I do remember checking you out though. You were fine as Hell."

"Well, I'm still the same girl you met on the beach that night, aren't I? Have I changed any?"

"Subtle changes, nothing big. Still beautiful, intelligent and ambitious. You used to be a lot more guarded around me though, but I think I broke down those walls. You also eased up on being so pushy, you used to bark demands at me like crazy."

"Sorry," she shook her head. "I feel like a totally different person now though. It scares me."

"What do you mean?"

"Those people who hurt Wrench— I want them dead, Marcus. I want them to suffer slowly. I know I can be vindictive and vengeful, there's nothing sweeter than destroying pretentious scumbags, but not to the extent where I feel as if jail is too good for them. I shouldn't wish death on anyone, it's so wrong. I killed someone once, that eye-ball collecting maniac who tried to execute you, because I had to. And it's been eating at me for a while now…"

"You did what you had to do, Sitara. Don't dwell on it. The remorse will drive you crazy if you let it."

"I don't know how to explain it, but sometimes I feel like your slipping away," she gazed at me. "At times, you can be so sweet and compassionate, and then there's times like earlier, at Giovanni's place. How do you do it? How do you kill people and not bat an eye about it?"

"I—" A black Jeep pulled up beside us out of blue. With its headlights off, it blended in with the road's surrounding darkness. Another car zoomed toward us in the opposite direction, it's headlights blinding. Sitara yelped with surprise. Stunned by the blinding lights, the Jeep rammed right into us.

 ** _CRASH!_**

The powerful hit swerved our tiny Chevrolet right off the road and into the pitch black woods. Sitara cried out as our car lost control, we descended a steep, bumpy hill farther and farther into the darkness, breaking through dead tree stumps and outstretched branches. The sound of glass shattering, and tires screeching against the rocky landscape filled my ears. There was a loud bump, and somehow, we overturned completely. Time seemed to come to a slow as the car spun through the air, pushing our bodies forward. I braced myself, arms held high, shielding my dome from smashing into the dashboard. Sitara's head hit the steering wheel full-on before the air bags emerged, colliding with our faces. A sharp burst of pain rattled my skull, the ache so overwhelming that I lost consciousness mid flip.

 **Bang! Bang!**

The echo of gunfire in the distance roused me to my senses. It was a miracle I picked up any sound at all, my ears were ringing like Hell. I found myself hanging upside down, strapped to my seat by my seatbelt, in an overturned steel prison. The roof had collapsed beneath us, and the windshield had caved in from the crash. The smell of thick smoke and gas filled my lungs. I coughed, my entire body aching and sore— I thought my lungs were going to fold in any second.

But that wasn't the worst part. At some point during the bumpy crash, I must have hit my dick against something. The stinging pain was unbearable.

I gazed at Sitara. She was unconsciousness, pinned between the steering wheel and crumbled roof. I tried to reach out to her, but my limbs were too heavy, the pains and aches weighed me down. The world kept fading into black, the bitter, coppery taste of blood pooled within my mouth.

In the back of my mind, I knew if we didn't get out of this steel prison anytime soon, it'd be all over. Everything we've went through to get Wrench back would be all for nothing. I wasn't ready to die. It wasn't death that terrified me though, it was the fact that I couldn't move, or do anything to stop it.

I wasn't sure how many times I faded in and out of consciousness before I heard Sitara call to me.

"Marcus…" Sitara whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "H-help… I can't get out. My seatbelt… stuck…"

I struggled to open my eyes. She wrestled with her seatbelt, clearly in a better physical condition than I was despite the bloody bump on her forehead. I tried to speak, but I couldn't. I could barely breathe.

 ** _Crack!_**

A foot kicked in the window beside me. A pale man in an expensive suit with black, slicked back hair appeared. My stomach dropped— it was Quinn. Where the fuck did he come from? A part of me wished the car would just explode already, so if we died, the motherfucker would go down with us.

"Quite the jam you two are in, hm?" He smirked, and reached into his pants pocket, drawing a knife. I swallowed deeply, preparing to be stabbed to death, but instead, he cut my seatbelt and dragged me out of the car onto the grassy ground. Dumbfounded, I watched him pull Sitara to safety next, effortlessly throwing her over his broad shoulder.

"Let go of me!" Sitara shuddered, pounding her fists against his chest.

"Quit squirming, you ungrateful worm," Quinn grumbled, roughly dropping her onto the ground beside me.

"Marcus!" Sitara clenched my shoulders tightly. "Oh my God, your nose is bleeding. Are you okay?"

Finally free from the smoke filled car, I was able to breathe much easier. If only the pain would ease up… "Nah, everything hurts. I-I think I broke my dick girl."

"No, no, it can't be broken. We're going to need to it one day, okay? Tell me how to fix it." She laid her palm on my crotch.

The pressure only made it hurt worse. I winced. "N-no, don't touch it—"

Bullets zoomed through the air in our direction, the flash of exploding gunpowder lit up the woods. Quinn knelt before us, using our overturned car as cover from the gunfire.

"The vehicle is going to explode any moment now, we need to distance ourselves from the blast," Quinn stated, his demeanor surprisingly calm despite the circumstances.

"Do you have any sense of compassion?" Sitara asked. "My boyfriend's dick is broken, okay? This is serious—"

"If you and your dickless boyfriend don't get moving now, we're all going to die horribly, understand?" Quinn threw my arm over his shoulder and heaved me into a stance. With his support, we fled further into the woods, down a seemingly endless path of tall trees, and dead leaves, the gunfire fading in the distance.

 ** _Boom!_**

A fiery explosion shook the earth, causing us to stumble. I peered behind us. The Chevrolet had combusted into flames, engulfing the grass and trees around it in a blanket of raging fire. Now that we were more or less out of harm's way, the realization that I was being whisked around by the one pretentious motherfucker I hated more than ctOS, Bratva, and corporate greed combined, sent me spiraling into an uncontrollable rage. Not even the aches and pains could tame my anger.

I jerked out of his grip, and smashed my fist into his face, the sudden blow knocked him off his feet. He regained his composure quickly, and rose to challenge me, launching his palm toward my throat. I dodged the attack, and charged him onto the ground. Raising my balled fist in preparation to break his teeth in, soft hands grasped my shoulders, dragging me away from him by my jacket.

"Stop!" Sitara shouted, stepping between us. "Can't we find out why he saved us before you kill him?"

"Who gives a shit?" I glared over her shoulder at Quinn. "One second you're trying to murder us, the next you're helping us. What's your game man?"

Quinn climbed to his feet, and began dusting the dirt off his suit. "Is he always this dramatic?" He asked calmly, his cold, expressionless eyes on Sitara.

"Why did you save us Quinn?" Sitara turned to face him.

"Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he formed a tight smile. "If you would be so kind to put aside your hatred and preconceived notions regarding me, I'd be more than happy to inform you of my broken ties with the Red Eagles. I willingly disobeyed a sacred oath to the cult, the consequences of doing so punishable by death."

"Seriously?" Sitara crossed her arms over her chest. "The Red Eagles is a cult?"

"Like some crazy Manson family, and Jonestown circle jerk shit?" I asked, slapping a hand over my chest to squash a bug crawling on my jacket. Fuck, there were insects buzzing around everywhere.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders. "Generally speaking, I suppose that's accurate."

"So now that you fucked shit up with your murder buddies, you think we can get you out of it?" I grinned. "Fuck that man—"

"I know where your friend is," Quinn argued. "I know exactly where he has been hidden, and I can lead you to him, if you agree to help me."

Sitara abruptly lost her balance, and stumbled into me.

I took my eyes off Quinn to gaze at Sitara. "Hey, you good?" I whispered.

Sitara touched a hand to her head. "Everything is spinning…" Her legs abruptly gave out from under her. I caught her in my arms before she hit the ground.

"Sitara?" I shook her narrow frame gently. Her body had gone limp, eyes closed and unresponsive. My heartbeat raced, nearly exploding in my chest from worry. My mind jumped to worse-case scenario. "No, no, no, no, this can't be happening. Please don't be dead girl, please—"

"Oh my, is she dead?" Quinn asked. "Quite the anti-climactic way to go, don't you think? I'm envious, death is a beautiful, glorious thing. In darkness, she shall be born anew, like a phoenix rising from the ashes—"

"Let me guess, your cult buddies teach you that? Now isn't the time for the delusional, hivemind bullshit man," I pressed my ear to her chest. There was a heartbeat. "Thank God," I let out a sigh of relief. "She's alive."

"That's just swell. Does she have a habit for randomly fainting?"

"No, this never happened before. I don't know what's wrong with her." I gazed at the bloody bump on her forehead. "Maybe she has a concussion."

Quinn took my side, and inspected Sitara. "It's likely, most people do after a car accident. Quite the phenomenon you both survived a crash of that magnitude."

I dug into my jacket pocket, and drew my phone. I grimaced— I couldn't pick up half a fucking signal out here. "Figures," I grumbled. Sitara was unconscious, we were stranded in the middle of the woods, and Wrench was still missing. Could things get anymore worse?

"Find them!" A voice rang out from the thick shadows surrounding us, echoing in the distance. "Snuff them out! They've couldn't have gotten far!

Damn it. Of course things could get worse, they always do. I just had to jinx our luck.

Quinn clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. "Great, my brothers are still trying to kill us." He opened his jacket and drew one of the pistols strapped to his chest. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

 **Whew, Marcus and Sitara are having a really tough time, aren't they? Lol, thanks for reading! As I stated before, I'm taking requests for one-shots, if there's any characters pairings from the watch dogs series, or specific scenarios you'd like to read about, be sure to inbox me or leave a review with your request! Also, please don't hesitate to let me know if you enjoy my work, your support inspires me to keep writing. Thank you :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone, I know it's been quite a while since the last update. I'm so sorry for the long wait. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Sitara**

 ** _Bang! Bang!_**

I jolted awake to the stutter of gunfire, only to find myself immersed in the utter blackness of the midnight woods. The darkness seemed to be pressing in on me from all sides, not even the silvery rays of the full moon could penetrate through the thick canopy's above. My sight was blurry with tears, and my limbs ached like Hell, refusing to move despite how hard I tried. Although I was crippled, I was still moving somehow— speeding through the harrowing darkness along a narrow path through the trees, twigs and branches snapping beneath me.

I was having a hard time trying to figure out what exactly was going on. I was in a daze, with no recollection of the previous events that landed me in this weird, life-threatening situation. Everything was hazy. I felt hungover, as if I had just woken up from a long night of drinking. The last thing I remembered clearly was lying on the sandy beach in San Diego, with my family and high school friends. It was my seventeenth birthday, and we were having the dopest party ever.

Oh my God, my parents are going to be worried sick! What am I going to do?

I had to focus hard to piece everything together. There were a pair of arms holding me tight, the curvature and rippled muscles were so familiar. I could make out the sound of heavy breathing over the gunfire. A broad chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Finally, I came to the realization that someone was carrying me.

The rapid gunshots ceased, and we came to an abrupt halt behind a tree. I mustered the strength to wipe the tears from my swollen eyes. The blurriness faded. I peered up, and spotted a tall, dark and handsome dude with wide framed glasses. He was awfully sweaty, as if he had just finished running a marathon, a strong, earthy musk rose from his powerful body. Due to his closeness, it didn't take much effort to examine his features through the darkness. He had the most beautiful brown complexion I've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He gazed at me, his eyes soft and laced with concern, the bronze starbursts in deep brown stare was mesmerizing.

Who was this super-hot, sweaty stranger? Did I know him from somewhere? It was strange, he looked awfully familiar, but I couldn't recall where I knew him from. Why on Earth was he whisking me about through the woods, in the dead of night? Was he trying to protect me? Was someone trying to kill us?

"W-who are you?" I asked.

He remained silent, thick brows furrowed.

"Excuse me, I asked you a question," I grumbled. "Who the heck are you—"

"Shh," he whispered. "We ain't in the clear yet."

A tall, clean-cut man in a black, neatly tailored suit appeared beside us. There were small leaves and freckles of dirt in his straight, slicked back hair. He combed his fingers through his dark, tousled strands before speaking. "I think they've lost track of us, but my brothers are a persistent bunch," he muttered, his voice was oddly slow and calm given the circumstances. He rubbed his strong, chiseled jaw in thought. "Hmm… there may be hope for us yet. I know these woods like the back of my hand. Follow me."

We picked up the pace again, the handsome man carrying me in his arms tailed closely behind the sharply dressed stranger. Where the heck are they taking me? If I had a shred of energy, I would've fought my way out of his grip and made a run for it. I felt so helpless.

"Hang tight, baby," Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome said. "We're almost out of this mess."

"I'm not your baby, creep," I retorted. "Who are you people? Where are we? What's going on?"

"Quit playin', girl." He feigned a smile. "It's me, Marcus."

"Marcus?" I blinked. "That name doesn't ring any bells."

He halted, and studied me silently. I gazed back at him blankly. After a moment or so of staring at one another, it started to become kind of awkward…

"It seems the girl has a slight case of amnesia," the sharply dressed man broke the silence, his dark, cool gray eyes watched me intently. "She suffered quite the concussion, after all. It's a miracle you two survived that car accident, I thought for sure you both were dead."

"Car accident?" I gasped. "When? Where? I have to call my parents—"

"I don't think 'slight case of amnesia' properly describes this situation, man." Marcus replied. "It's more like, an extreme case of amnesia. She doesn't even remember who the fuck we are."

"We need to keep moving. Chances are, she'll snap out of it eventually."

"And if she doesn't?"

Quinn shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess you'll have to woo her all over again."

The boys continued forging ahead through the dark woods.

"Where are you guys taking me?" I squirmed about in his arms. My heartbeat pounded against my chest. "Let me go!"

"Hey, chill out," Marcus said. "We're trying to find Wrench, remember? That's why we came out here in the first place—"

"Liar!" I shouted, my voice echoed through the dark woods. "Get off of me!"

"Quiet!" The suited man snapped. He about-faced, and glared at me. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Screw you," I spat. "Let me go, or else I'll scream. Your choice."

"Marcus, either you shut her up, or I will," he warned.

"Okay, okay," Marcus muttered. "Everybody just calm the fuck down, alright?" He gently set me down, but my weak legs refused to stand. My knees buckled, and I fell onto the cold, rocky ground.

"Ow," I whimpered, hugging my legs close. Why couldn't I stand? Why was my entire body hurting so bad? My chest grew heavy. I suddenly felt empty, alone, and afraid, the darkness pressed in on me, it was suffocating. I hated this place. I wanted to go home. My lashes brimmed with tears. All I could do was sit in the dirt and sob quietly, I didn't have the strength to do much else…

"Sitara?" Marcus crouched down. Slow and cautious, he approached me. I tensed, edging away from him. "Sweetie, look at me," he pleaded. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

There was sadness laced in his voice, as if he was fighting back tears. It sounded sincere. I peered at him. He appeared to be in so much pain, his eyes wet, and hands clenched into shaking fists, in a desperate battle against his own grief. He sucked in a deep breath, and then exhaled, a tight smile spread across his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Remember Ded-Sec?" He asked softly.

"Ded-Sec?" I sniffed.

"We don't have time for this," the jerk in the suit said.

"Give me a fucking second," Marcus demanded. "Sitara, you're a hacker, a damn good one at that. The people of San Francisco was drowning in a cesspool of corporate greed, and corruption, and the worst part of it all was they didn't even know it. They were too fucking blind to see it. But we woke them up— you, me, Josh and Wrench, we did it as a team. Don't you remember Josh and Wrench? They're your friends, you love them to death."

The names he mentioned sounded so familiar. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying my best to remember. A lanky dude with a mask and a spiked leather jacket popped into my head. "Wrench… he wears a mask, right?"

"Yeah!" Marcus exclaimed happily. "And Josh always wears a beanie."

I nodded. "The one that's constantly glued to the computer at the hackerspace, right?"

"Yep, that's him."

I opened my eyes, and studied him. "But what about you?" It was a struggle, but I managed to scoot closer to him. Curious, I reached out, my fingers traced over his sculpted jawline. "Are you my friend too?"

He chuckled. "Well technically, we're more than just friends. We've got a thing going on—"

"A relationship," the suited man added. "Monogamous, I'm guessing."

"Good guess," Marcus replied.

"A relationship?" I asked.

"Indeed," the suited man nodded. "It's where two naïve people agree to commit to one another so they can repeatedly hump each other on a regular basis— that is, until they grow sick of one another, which is evitable, might I add. Then, they break up. Of course, there's those rare cases where the couple actually honors their idiotic oath, and remain together, living out their entire miserable existence alongside the person they've grown to hate."

"That's a really depressing way to look at it," Marcus retorted.

I frowned. "I don't recall agreeing to that."

"Uh, what about the day we had our first kiss?" Marcus asked. "At your apartment?"

"W-we kissed before?" The memory of rain came to mind. "Was it raining that day?"

"Yeah, there was a bad storm actually."

"What kind of kiss was it?" The suited man asked. "A slow kiss? Passionate kiss? Maybe a combination of both? Did the kiss happen to escalate to second base, by any chance? You know, the heavy petting, and the sexy touching above the belt?"

Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly.

"What? I'm trying to help spark her memory."

"I think it'd be more helpful if you gave us some space, man," Marcus replied.

A strong beam of light shined directly at us from between the trees in the distance, the brightness was nearly blinding. "There they are!" A voice cried out from afar. "Kill them!"

"Come with me, hurry!" The man with the tailored suit sped off further into the woods.

"We gotta move," Marcus said. "Can you run?"

I shook my head. He quickly swept me into his arms with little effort, and raced after his friend. Luckily for us, they weren't shooting this time around, but they were closing in on us— heavy footsteps lurked closely behind.

There was a sudden break in the thick mass of trees surrounding us. We reached a narrow dirt road. I spotted bright lights and houses in the distance— I couldn't believe my eyes, it was a town! It stood at the end of the path, the mysterious civilization was hidden behind layers and layers woodland, sandwiched between the encompassing trees. Who in their right minds thought it was a good idea to build a town in such a secluded area? Either way, I was glad they did. If we could make it to town, we'd be safe, there had to be people there who could help us.

The boys bolted for the town, twigs and branches snapped beneath their every step. Our pursuers stalked close behind. My stomach churned with dread. Why were they so determined to kill us? I tried to peek over Marcus' shoulder countless times, in hopes to catch a glimpse of our attackers, but my sight would be impaired by the blinding beams of their flashlights. It was pointless.

Considering I was being conveniently whisked about during the high-speed chase, I did my best to choke down my fear, and set my focus on observing our surroundings. An aged, wooden sign came into view as we neared the town. The words, 'Welcome to Ashton' had been crossed out, and was replaced with an eerie message written in red paint. 'DANGER, TURN BACK NOW' was etched across the wood. The paint looked fresh.

As if we didn't have enough to worry about, the defaced sign gave me the chills. We grazed past the sign and entered the town with our pursuers still at our heels. The town was dead silent, there wasn't a soul in sight to help us. Every shred of hope and optimism I had faded away as I observed the rundown area— a gust of dry wind blew through the long concrete maze of ancient structures, their windows shattered, and the doors of every home hanging on the threads of their hinges, grating in sheer agony as they swayed in the breeze. The only thing still intact around here were the tall street lamps, they illuminated the lonely, abandoned boulevard.

Thankfully our enemies weren't nearly as fast as us, but they didn't seem like they were planning on giving up their pursuit anytime soon. With the support of the town's street lamps, their flashlights were slightly less blinding. I could finally make out the shadowy figures lurking behind us. I counted about six men, their faces concealed with black ski masks, and they donned dark camouflaged fatigues. No way were they military, and they didn't look like any of the street gangs I've ever seen— could they be mercenaries? Although they were armed, they weren't shooting at us. Maybe they ran out of ammunition. After all, they were unloading their clips like madmen back in the woods. It was bound to run out eventually.

The boys came to a sudden halt in their sprint. We stood in the center of the town's road like fish out of water, completely exposed.

"Guys," I murmured, my fists clenched Marcus' jacket. "Why'd we stop? T-they're going to get us…"

"Quinn," Marcus huffed, out of breath from the prolonged running. It was a miracle he still had energy left, considering he's been carrying me this whole time. He was reaching his limit now however, his back hunched over slightly, and wheezing, desperately sucking in air. "Please tell me you know where you're going..."

Quinn appeared to be just as exhausted, his posture slumped, and shoulders bowed over his chest. "Bear with me… we're almost there."

My stomach dropped. They looked so tired, Marcus especially. It was about time I had started to pull my weight, for everyone's sake. Although my body still ached, I had regained some of my strength since earlier. My mental fogginess was slowly clearing up too, and my memories were coming back in bits and pieces. "Marcus, put me down. I think I can manage on my own for now."

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He carefully set me down on my feet. I stumbled, leaning on him for support. It took a moment, but I eventually regained my balance.

Quinn took the lead once again. Marcus jogged behind him. I pushed through the soreness, doing my best to keep up with the boys. We made a sharp turn into an alleyway between two shoddy, wooden houses. A foul, putrid odor hung heavy in the air. It smelled like rotting meat. It was so disgustingly severe that I was tempted to gag right there on the spot. The stench became stronger and stronger the deeper we ventured along the path.

At the end of the alley was a tall, chain link fence. A flock of vultures were crowded around it, their beaks were pecking away at something on the ground. They quickly dispersed into the air once as we neared them. A corpse appeared, it's flesh nearly picked clean, and pitted with billowing insects. It's lifeless brown eyes seemed to be staring straight through me. My cheeks burned with guilt, and my heart pounded against my chest so rapidly, I thought it was going to burst. Who could've done this?

The boys seemed to be unfazed by the corpse, and the horrific smell. Quinn was the first to cling to the fence, and he scaled with it with ease. Marcus was kind enough to give me a boost over it, and Quinn waited patiently on the other side, catching me in his arms as I dropped down. Marcus was the last to successfully climb over.

"Fucker!" One of our pursuers snapped, his beady eyes glared through the chain link standing between us. The man was heaving, clearly exhausted. "We're gonna skin you alive. Do you hear me?" He clenched the fence, and shook it angrily. "You're fucking dead!"

"You're gonna have to catch us first," Marcus taunted with a grin.

We found ourselves in a shadowy backyard of one of the many abandoned houses. We pushed forward, the overgrown grass hugged our ankles. We hopped white picket fence after picket fence during our advance, and still, we didn't encounter a single soul. Finally, we made it back to the road. Quinn hovered behind a rusty vintage car for cover. Marcus and I dipped down beside him. Neither of us muttered a word for quite some time as we struggled to catch our breaths.

"Now what?" Marcus broke the silence.

"There's a bar across the street," Quinn said. "We can lay low there, and perhaps, devise a plan during our stay?"

I stole a glimpse across the empty street. A small, red brick bar was situated on the corner, and hanging from the dusty, sagging square roof was the sign 'Lucky's Saloon', in bright neon letters. The entrance and windows were locked tight with metal security shutters. It'd be tricky trying to get inside, but it was in better condition than most of the structures in town. We could rest easy knowing the roof itself wouldn't collapse on top of us, hopefully.

"It sure as heck isn't open for business," I muttered. "How do we get inside?"

"Never fear, I have the key." Quinn swerved from behind cover and approached the bar.

"You have a key?" Marcus asked as we shadowed behind him. "How the fuck?"

"Ashton used to be a nice little town, a close-knit community thriving with opportunity," Quinn replied, avoiding the question. "It was filled with loving, free-spirited families working together to survive off the land. The political strife, and the technological complexity of modern civilization was far too burdensome. They yearned for a simpler life, to live off the grid, you see, in the wilderness, away from ctOS' influence."

Marcus shook his head. "That's a cool idea and all, but I'm guessing it wasn't all roses and sunshine, huh?"

"Not at all," Quinn replied. "All good things eventually come to end. I used to be a resident here as well, hoping to free myself from the technological jaws that bound me."

"Seriously?" My eyes widened. "You lived out here? In the middle of nowhere?"

He nodded. "Some may find it radical to leave civilization behind, to live without the aid of a computer or phone. But it's quite the freeing experience. You come to realize you can live quite nicely without the distraction of social media and the likes."

"So how'd you end up joining a cult?" Marcus asked. "And what happened to your town?"

"It's a long, pathetically sad story, and I'm in no mood for a pity party," Quinn knelt before the bar's metal shutters, and slipped the key into the padlock. "As for the residents of this town, they were faced an ultimatum— either join the cult, or die. Most chose the latter. I chose to live."

Marcus hunched over and pushed the shutters up, revealing the store's glass entrance. "I'm not interested in your life story, man. But the more information we get about your crazy ass cult, the better. You owe it to us to tell us everything."

Quinn held the door open for us. The bar's dim lights flicked on the moment we stepped inside. It was empty, as expected and so caked with dust, it was hard to breathe. Coughing, I slipped into the nearest row of booths to relax my aching legs. Although the bar hadn't had any business for the longest, a wall of various alcohol bottles was on display behind the counter, ready to be served. Quinn eagerly helped himself to a glass, snatching a whiskey bottle off the wall and chugging down nearly half of it.

Marcus wiggled into the booth beside me. "You good?"

"Well, we're stranded in a ghost town and there's a bunch of psychos trying to kill us," I frowned. "But besides that, I'm just fine."

He gazed at me. "You got a nasty bump on your forehead, from the car accident. Mind if I take a look at it?"

"Sure." I shrugged my shoulders. Although I was still unsure of who he was, I had nothing to lose at this point.

Quinn appeared before our booth, and dropped his whiskey and clean handkerchief on the polished wood table. "You're welcome," he stated.

"Wow, thanks man, what would we do without you?" Marcus asked sarcastically. "It's almost like you're not the fucking reason we're nose deep in shit right now." He poured a bit of alcohol on the handkerchief and cupped my cheek gently. With a delicate touch, he began cleansing my wound. I winced, a stinging pang overwhelmed my forehead.

"You're all doom and gloom," Quinn said. He stepped aside, and began unbuttoning his suit jacket, revealing a black vest, and a clean, white collared shirt underneath. He slipped off his leather gloves, and carefully undid the cufflinks of his sleeves. As he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, I noticed his toned, pale arms were laced with deep scars. The cuts looked recent, and still in the process of healing, red and scabbed. "Why don't you live a little, Marcus?" Quinn asked. "Life is short, my friend—"

"We ain't friends," Marcus grumbled. "Those motherfuckers trying to kill us are your friends."

"They're my ex-friends, Marcus. It was a toxic relationship, and I'm currently in the process of breaking it off, which is why I'm stuck here with you."

"What'd you do to piss them off anyway?"

"We've been through this already. I broke a sacred oath, punishable by death."

"What kind of oath?"

"A sacred one," he smirked.

"Really man?" Marcus glared at him, clearly annoyed.

"Do the small details really matter?" Quinn turned away to grab another drink from the wall. "All you need to know is, I'm here to help you save your friend. He's locked up on the other side of town, in a secure location."

"Giovanni was under the impression he was at a shipping yard."

"We stopped using the shipping yard to store cargo a few months ago. The risk of detection is dramatically low when off the grid, away from ctOS' prying eyes. I can take you to Wrench. After that, we go our separate ways."

"Fine by me." Marcus set the bloodstained cloth aside. "How's your head feeling, girl? Does it still hurt?"

"The pain is easing up now," I feigned a smile. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Just say the word when you're ready to depart," Quinn turned his back to us, and slid onto the barstool before the counter. "The sooner the better, of course. By the way, you wouldn't happen to have any bolt cutters, would you?"

"Does it look like I carry around bolt cutters?" Marcus grumbled.

"Why do you need those?" I asked.

"We use padlocks around here, if you haven't noticed," Quinn said. "Without a key, we'll need an alternative method to free your friend. Bolt cutters would do nicely, if we had any." He chugged down the last of his drink, and sprang up from the barstool. "Pardon me, I'll be right back." Quinn treaded for the door.

Marcus latched onto his arm, stopping his advance. "Yo, where are you going?"

"There's a hardware store down the road," Quinn answered. "There's bound to be something we can use inside."

"Fine. We're coming with you—"

"No, stay here with the girl," Quinn demanded. "This is a one-man job. I know this town like the back of my hand. I can get in, and get out fast. You and her are liabilities— you two will only slow me down."

Quinn snatched his arm from Marcus' clutches, and made his departure.

"Fuck…" Marcus muttered under his breath. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and sunk into his booth seat, closing his eyes.

I studied him intently. His jaw was clenched, and his body was visibly tense, remaining perfectly still. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his complexion had become slightly pale. I had a feeling something was wrong with him, but I wasn't sure if he wanted to be bothered. Should I disturb him? It was the least I could do, he protected me from the killers, and even went out of his way to tend to my wounds.

He and I had history, I couldn't explain how because I had no memory of it. Bits and snippets of my past were returning to me though, I could reminisce about the hackerspace, and my friends, Josh and Wrench, but whenever I tried to recall Marcus, I drew blanks. But my gut was telling me to trust him. He claimed we were more than friends… how could I forget something like that?

"Marcus?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Are you okay?"

"I have to be," he murmured weakly, eyes still closed. "I can make it…"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Promise you'll tell the truth?"

"Mhmm," he sighed. "Cross my heart, and hope to die."

"Are you really who you say you are? Are we really… together?"

His eyes finally opened. He gazed at me, and preformed a slow, sluggish nod. "I wouldn't lie about that."

I noticed tears brimming on his eyelashes. He attempted to blink it away, but a single tear escaped, and rolled down his cheekbone. I felt a weight on my chest watching him cry. "You don't look okay," I mumbled.

"I'm good, there's somethin' in my eye," he sniffed. "Don't sweat it."

"You promised you wouldn't lie."

Marcus didn't respond. He sat there in silence, his hand clenched tightly to his abdomen. There was blood on his hoodie, a lot of it. It was scary…

"Did you hurt your stomach?" I asked. "Is that why you're so sad? Or, is it because people are trying to kill us?"

"Honestly, I…" He paused, a pained grunt escaped his lips, followed by a series of shuddering breaths. Soon enough, he regained his composure, becoming perfectly still again. "Have you ever been so tired, but you can't sleep?"

"Like insomnia?"

"No, I could sleep if I wanted to. I could end it, just be gone forever… you have no idea how bad I want to, girl." A weak smile formed on his face. "Could you imagine? No more pain, no more mistakes, no more fighting."

"You can't sleep yet." I squeezed his shoulder. "I need your help. I don't think I can make it out of this without you."

"I know baby, that's why I'm still here. If it weren't for you…" He sighed. "I'm scared to become a memory, because I know memories fade, and after that, there's nothing—"

I pressed a finger to his full lips. "Please, don't say stuff like that, okay?"

He took my hand into his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "My bad, forget I said anything. I didn't…"

His voice trailed off, and silence reclaimed the bar. My eyes watered, as his dreary thoughts replayed in my head. Something came over me at that very moment, a mixture of sympathy, fear and desire emerged from my gut, and I found myself reaching out to him. There was nothing I could say or do to ease his despair, but I embraced him anyway, desperately hoping that I could provide some comfort. Even if it was the tiniest bit, it was worth it.

Marcus flinched, caught off guard by the hug. He grinned, his arms settled around my waist and he snuggled me close. I nuzzled my face in his broad chest, and listened to his calm heartbeat. His calm, steady breaths, and the warmth of his body warded off my fear. I smiled, loving the way my loneliness hastily dispersed, and faded away in his gentle embrace.

"Promise me you won't give up," I clasped his hand. "You have to keep fighting."

"You and me against the world," he replied. "Forever and always."

I cringed, the words 'forever and always' sparked a colossal chain of memories to flash through my mind. I finally remembered him— from the fateful, starry night on the beach where I finally met RetrO, the Home Domain Awareness hacker face to face, to the terrible accident we had on the expressway in search of Wrench. I remembered the long nights we spent cuddled in one another's arms, and all the tantalizing kisses we shared, as well as the arguments, and the numerous pitfalls we endured together.

The memories were so vivid, it felt like I was experiencing it all over again. Some memories evoked much stronger feelings than others, like the rainy day he admitted his fondness for me, and the intimate night we spent at my apartment after he awoke from his coma. Warmth radiated through my body, I felt so happy and excited, I could barely think straight.

"Marcus!" I captured his gorgeous face and began planting a flurry of kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. "I feel the same way," I spoke between each kiss. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Let's save Wrench and then get married, okay?"

He beamed. "Whoa, what's gotten into you? You've gone and lost your damn mind, girl."

"Shut up and take it, dweeb." I continued assaulting his face with my lips. "You are so perfect!"

"Stoooop," Marcus whined cutely, his beautiful brown skin flushed. "The sweetness, I can't take it."

"You're a strong man, you can take this, and so much more."

"Mmm, that sounds naughty."

I abruptly stopped kissing him, and cupped his chin, forcing him to look at me. "Wanna know my favorite memory of you?"

"Hell yeah I do."

My voice lowered to a whisper. "Remember that naughty thing we did together?"

Marcus gazed at me quizzically. "Uh, which thing?"

"You know…" I smirked slyly. "The dirty thing."

"You talkin' about the time you convinced me to spank that Russian dude with a butt paddle?" He grinned. "That was great, one of the many highlights of my life. You still have that paddle, by the way?"

"No, you dweeb. I mean the thing you did to me, with your fingers."

"Oh yeah! How could I forget? You were so pissed when I gave you that wet willy."

I shook my head, Marcus was so clueless. It was the cutest thing.

"Hold up," he muttered. "Are you referring to a few nights ago, when we got all sexy at your apartment?"

"Yes, you finally figured it out, genius. When we get out of this, I want you to do that thing you did to me… you know, with your fingers."

"You don't have to make it sound so awkward," Marcus grinned. "But sure, I got you girl, it's easy. All you gotta do is stroking motions over and over, while flicking your thumb occasionally, and if you wanna get fancy, you can include some plucking into the formula—"

I gasped. "You were plucking me? Seriously?"

Marcus cackled loudly. His goofy laughter was so contagious, I started chuckling too. We sat there for a good minute, snickering like hyenas.

"Damn, it hurts to laugh," Marcus muttered.

"Hang in there, stud," I replied. "We're so close to getting Wrench back."

"Assuming Quinn comes back, yeah. At least you're back to normal though." His expression grew somber. "That period of amnesia you had sucked. Even though it wasn't your fault, it hurt to become nothing but a stranger to you."

"I'm so sorry," my hands smoothed over his muscular arms, caressing them gently. "I never meant to hurt you."

He cupped my chin, and peered into my eyes searchingly. I stared back into his, admiring the faint hues of amber within his smoldering, brown gaze. My palms suddenly grew uncomfortably sweaty, and my insides tingled. Unable to hold together my composure, I crumbled beneath the intensity of his stare, nervous giggles escaped my lips, like a giddy teenage girl. He was the only man able to so easily tear down my walls with his stare alone. It was so embarrassing.

He was well aware of the effect he had on me, an amused smile played across his full lips. He leaned in, and silenced my nervous laughter with a kiss. It was slow and clinging, the caress of his lips so soft and warm, and comforting in ways words never could. Every problem and worry plaguing my mind melted away as our breaths mingled.

Marcus let out a low, pleased murmur, before reluctantly breaking the kiss. We refused to let one another go however. He captured me in his strong embrace and I clung to his muscular body. We knew that at any moment we could lose one another forever— the stakes were high, and being a member of DedSec was becoming more dangerous and dangerous by the day. Tomorrow wasn't promised, so we continued to hold one another, cherishing the moment, well aware that it could be our last.

The bar entrance abruptly swung open. Josh appeared, his hands raised high above his head, with Quinn at his heels, holding him at gunpoint. I stared incredulously at him. What was he friggin' doing here? How did he find us?

"Josh!" Marcus and I exclaimed in unison.

"A friend of yours?" Quinn asked, lowering his weapon.

I scrambled out of the booth, and pulled Josh into a hug. He was absolutely terrified, tears rushed down his face, and he trembled uncontrollably.

"Asshole," I glared at Quinn. "Why the Hell did you pull a gun on him?"

"I found him nosing around the bar, looking for a way in," Quinn responded casually. "Naturally, I assumed he was a threat, so I drew my gun. Once he realized I had spotted him, he started shaking, howling and wheezing madly, like a wild animal. And then he fainted. I didn't have the heart to pull the trigger after that. He seemed harmless, so I waited for him to regain consciousness, and led him here."

"Thank God," I stroked Josh's head gently. "You're okay now, Josh. Everything is going to be fine."

Marcus appeared behind him, and squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Yeah, don't worry man," Marcus said, his tone soothing and soft. "We got you. It's all good."

Josh clutched my sweater, and buried his face in my chest as he sobbed.

Quinn cleared his throat awkwardly. "Pardon me for interrupting but…" He waved a large pair of red bolt cutters high in the air. "I pillaged the hardware store and acquired the loot without a hitch. Shall we continue on our quest? We've wasted quite a bit of time already."

* * *

 **Did you guys enjoy the chapter? I hope so! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. :)**


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